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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27936732">The Romione Trap</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sm_jl/pseuds/sm_jl'>sm_jl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Beauxbatons, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Twins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:08:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27936732</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sm_jl/pseuds/sm_jl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Weasley and Holly Granger have nothing in common...except the fact that they’re twins. When they meet at Beauxbatons after ten years apart, there’s only one logical thing to do—trade lives. (Or, The Parent Trap, Romione-style.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi everyone! Welcome to the silly little plot bunny that wouldn't go away. This is based on one of my favorite movies The Parent Trap, featuring my two favorite lovestruck dorks. I own nothing related to Harry Potter, and if you recognize any of the dialogue from TPT, I don't own that either. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it! Huge thanks as always to be11atrixthestrange for encouraging this nonsense :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione stared down at the three letters in front of her. The first was a given; her daughter had been on the rolls for Ilvermorny since they had moved to America ten years earlier. The second, though unexpected, wasn’t exactly a surprise: the same green-inked Hogwarts letter that Hermione had received on her eleventh birthday, along with a letter from Headmistress McGonagall, assuring Hermione that Holly would have a place at her school if she wanted it. It was the last one that had thrown her for a loop.</p><p>Right on time, Holly bounded into their flat, home from school, and straight to the fridge. “Hi, Mum!” Hermione didn’t respond except to hold up the third letter and quirk an eyebrow at her daughter, who gave her an achingly familiar sheepish grin in return and, thankfully, didn’t beat around the bush about it. “Beauxbatons is a great school, Mum.”</p><p>“I know that. The question is, why did you apply to attend there? And better question, why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>“I wasn’t even sure I could go.” Holly sat across from her at the table. “I didn’t want to upset you if I didn’t have to.”</p><p>“And just what is wrong with Ilvermorny?”</p><p>“Nothing’s <em> wrong </em> with it,” Holly said slowly. “I just...think I’d like to go abroad. Are you upset it’s not Hogwarts?”</p><p>Hermione shook her head, perhaps a bit too fervently. “No, no, of course I don’t expect you to go to Hogwarts.” That would invite a conversation that Hermione, in the deepest recesses of her mind, knew she would have to have with her daughter eventually, but on the surface, she still operated in a carefully crafted state of avoidance of that particular topic. “But I’ll <em> miss </em> you, that far away.”</p><p>Holly rolled her bright blue eyes, and Hermione’s stomach clenched, as it seemed to be doing more and more frequently the older her daughter got; her existence was a walking dissertation on the nature versus nurture argument, because despite not having seen her father since she was a baby, Holly’s mannerisms were all his. “You’ll see me the exact same amount. I’ll just be further away. Not that it matters, seeing as you can be anywhere in the world in less than a minute.” Hermione shot her a look. “Besides, if I go to Beauxbatons, you can come over at holidays and we can go skiing. You always tell me how much you miss ski trips with Grandma and Grandpa.”</p><p>“We can go on holiday any time. Skiing is not a valid reason to send you all the way across the Atlantic for school.”</p><p>“<em>Et...pour pratiquer mon français</em>?" Holly chirped with a grin.</p><p>“You have French classes here.”</p><p>“Mum, immersion is a <em> much </em> more effective way to learn a language.”</p><p>Hermione sighed. Her thirst for knowledge and relentless stubbornness were two of the more defining qualities Holly had inherited from her. “I’ll think about it, okay?” she relented. “Now get your coat. We’re going to be late for your birthday tea.”</p><p>***</p><p>“Rose!” Ron yelled up the stairs as he tugged his shoes on. “We’ve got to get going! Grandma will kill us if we’re late again.”</p><p>It took several minutes to get a response, and when he did, it was not his daughter’s usual thundering footsteps on the staircase; in fact, she looked downright nervous as she entered the living room. “Dad, can we talk about something before we go?”</p><p>“ ‘Course we can, you know you can talk to me about anything. But unless you want the wrath of Grandma Weasley, we should probably make it quick.” Rose chewed at her bottom lip, and Ron forced himself not to focus on, despite her red hair and blue eyes, how very much she looked like her mother at that moment. Ron shook his head and stood up from the couch. “Hey, Rosie, I’m kidding. What’s going on?” He pulled his wand out and quickly cast his patronus, which scampered away to deliver his message to the Burrow.</p><p>“I don’t think I want to go to Hogwarts,” Rose said finally, in an unusually small voice.</p><p>“Oh, sweetheart, everyone gets nervous before they go to Hogwarts the first time,” Ron assured her, wrapping her in a comforting hug. “But you’ll have a great time, and meet lots of friends, and—“</p><p>“No,” Rose cut him off, pulling away. “I’m not worried about going away to school. I just…” She squared her shoulders, looking more like her typical confident self. “I want to go to Beauxbatons instead.”</p><p>“Beauxbatons?” Ron repeated, as stunned as if he’d never heard the word before. “Why?”</p><p>“It’s a great school.”</p><p>“I didn’t say it wasn’t. What’s wrong with Hogwarts?”</p><p>“Nothing’s <em> wrong </em> with it.”</p><p>“All your family has gone to Hogwarts. Your cousins will all be there with you in a few years.”</p><p>“Sort of the point.” Ron raised an eyebrow at her. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way. I love our family, and I love being a Weasley, but there’s <em> so many </em> of us. I’ll have all these expectations on me the second I walk in the door. It’s not exactly easy having a bloody war hero for a dad.”</p><p>Ron supposed this was not the right time to inform her that her mother was also a hero of said war, and instead corrected ironically, “Don’t swear.” Rose glared at him. “Alright, just don’t swear in front of Grandma, you’ll get us both in trouble.”</p><p>“If I go to Beauxbatons, nobody there knows me. I can just be me. Just Rose. Please say you’ll at least think about it?”</p><p>Having grown up with five older brothers, not to mention one sister whose very existence as a girl had threatened to overshadow his, and one savior of the wizarding world, he could at least empathize with what his daughter was saying, although he wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of sending her so far away. Plus, he remembered those Beauxbatons uniforms, and if any of those French boys got any funny ideas about his little girl, there would be hell to pay. “Yeah, Rosie,” he sighed. “I’ll think about it. Now get your coat. You’re late to your own birthday dinner.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Now you’re sure that you’ve got everything?” Hermione fussed. “Coat? Wand? French-English dictionary?”</p><p>Holly rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mum, we went over the list a <em> thousand </em> times. I’m sure I have everything I need.” She reached over to give her mother a reassuring hug. “Except you, of course.”</p><p>“Oh Merlin, Hol, don’t make me cry.” Hermione sniffed and set her at arm’s length. “You’ll write as soon as you’re settled? Let me know how everything is going?”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>, Mum, now I’ve got to go or I’m going to miss the train.” The navy steam engine wasn’t as large as the Hogwarts Express, but it was hidden in the Gare du Nord in similar fashion. She still had nearly fifteen minutes before the train was due to depart, but that was already pushing the boundaries of punctuality in the Granger household, and Holly was anxious to get going. The only downside so far to the French school was that, aside from her wand and a few other basic necessities, they hadn’t been able to get any of her required supplies in America, which meant that Holly had had no time yet to start reading her textbooks.</p><p>With a final wave to her mum, she boarded the train and found an empty compartment, immediately settling in with <em> Charmes pour les Débutants - Première Année</em>.</p><p>The train had just started moving when another student poked her head into the doorway. “<em>Bonjour, ce compartiment, c’est libre</em>?” Holly let the girl’s rapid words flow through her head for translation before she nodded in answer, and the girl dragged her trunk inside.</p><p>“<em>Je m’appelle Holly</em>,” she introduced herself, suddenly very aware of the very <em> not </em>-French sound of her voice.</p><p>“Oh. You are ze <em> americaine</em>?” The girl sat down across from her. “I heard zat we would have one in our year. I’m Emilie.”</p><p>“So nice to meet you,” Holly said, relieved for the brief respite to her native language, but making a mental note to work on her pronunciation. She should have known her accent would make her stick out like a sore thumb.</p><p>“And you. It’s so hard to find a quiet place to read on zis train.” Holly and her new friend shared a smile as Emilie pulled out the first-year potions textbook, and the two of them shared a quiet ride toward the mountains.</p><p>***</p><p>“No, no way, you’re <em> completely </em>wrong!” In absolute opposite fashion, at the other end of the train, Rose’s compartment was packed to the point of overflowing as a lively Quidditch debate had broken out among a large group of students. Aside from her fear that Aunt Fleur and her cousins hadn’t taught her enough French over the years to get by, Rose’s greatest worry about Beauxbatons was that the French students wouldn’t be as into Quidditch as she was, and she was relieved to get that one out of the way early. “McNully is the best seeker in Britain. And after next year’s World Cup, everyone will see he’s the best seeker in the world.”</p><p>Her new friend Marc, who Rose had got on with immediately despite his sub-par taste in Quidditch teams, rolled his eyes. “DuPont will catch ze snitch before your McNully kicks off ze ground.”</p><p>“You’re barking,” Rose retorted, then corrected in response to the blank looks from around the compartment, “<em>Tu es fou</em>.”</p><p>“Barking?” Pauline repeated with a giggle. Pauline was the other first-year that Rose had met on the platform. They were both making a run for it, nearly late to the train, and Rose knew instantly that they would be friends. “That’s a funny thing to say. Barking, like a dog.”</p><p>One of the older girls—a <em> mousquetaire</em>, Rose had learned, which was a very funny word but the equivalent of a Hogwarts prefect and not to be trifled with—scoffed and glanced at her watch. “You English. Best get your robes on, <em> tout le monde</em>. <em> Nous arrivons tout de suite</em>.”</p><p>The other students headed back to their own compartments, and Marc excused himself to the loo, leaving the two girls alone to change into their periwinkle robes. Rose put hers on quickly and then couldn’t stop fiddling with it. She had seen Aunt Fleur’s pictures from school but had vastly underestimated how uncomfortable the frilly uniform would be. “So, do you know what house you’re going to be in?” Rose ventured in an effort to distract herself from a vague longing for the practical warmth of a Hogwarts jumper.</p><p>“House? <em> Mais non</em>. We are sorted on arrival, no one knows, do zey?” Pauline replied.</p><p>“You mean…” Rose thought of the seemingly endless parade of Weasley Gryffindors, of which she certainly would have been another had she gone to Hogwarts, and asked, “Your family’s not all in the same house?”</p><p>Pauline shook her head. “Is it like zat, at ‘ogwarts? You are sorted by surname?”</p><p>“Well no, not exactly, it just usually works out that way.” The train ground to a halt, and Rose looked out the window. The mountains were beautiful, and she could just make out the twinkling lights of the castle in the distance. “Come on, let’s go catch up with Marc.”</p><p>They rode from the train station to the castle in carriages pulled by the largest horses Rose had ever seen, and then the <em> mousquetaires </em> separated the first years from the rest of the students to wait outside the dining hall. Eva, the one Rose had met the train, explained the sorting ceremony, in which they would cast a simple charm and the color of the sparks would indicate their house. Rose hadn’t practiced any magic before coming and was starting to wonder if she should have. What about muggleborns? What if they couldn’t do the charm? Rose mulled the incantation over in her head and gripped her wand tight in her pocket, determined not to embarrass herself in front of the whole school.</p><p>She was so focused on getting the spell right that she had completely zoned out as they marched into the dining hall, and was paying no attention to the sorting ceremony until Marc and Pauline jabbed her from either side with their elbows. “Ow,” Rose hissed irritably. “What?”</p><p>“You didn’t tell us you had <em> une soeur</em>,” Marc said. Rose shook her head in confusion.</p><p>“I don’t. I’m an only child.” It hadn’t ever felt that way, with a family as big as hers, but at the end of the day, it was just her and her dad.</p><p>“Okay, zen...<em>qui est-ce</em>?” Pauline nodded up to the front of the room, to the girl confidently holding her wand aloft beneath a shower of blue sparks, and Rose nearly fainted. The girl had her same bright blue eyes, her same unruly red hair...it was like looking into a mirror.</p><p>“I have no idea.” Rose watched, still in shock, as the girl was welcomed to the table by her new fellow students of Papillonlisse. “But I’m going to find out.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dormitories were perfectly cozy, and Holly was pleasantly surprised that she had a room to herself. Her mom’s stories from Hogwarts had left her dreading the shared bedroom experience, but the rooms at Beauxbatons, though small, were singles. It was nice to have some peace and quiet after she retired for the night.</p><p>She had stayed up in the common room later than she had meant to, but Emilie and some of the other students in her house had been pestering her about this English witch who had been sorted into Bellefeuille—Rose something. Holly hadn’t noticed her at the sorting ceremony, but according to the others, they shared an almost uncanny resemblance. Holly had assured them that they had imagined or exaggerated the similarities between them; yes, her mother was English, but Holly’s family was very small, and she <em> certainly </em> didn’t have a sister. Maybe the girl was a distant cousin or something, but Holly wasn’t losing any sleep over finding out.</p><p>As they had agreed, she and Emilie met in the common room to head down to breakfast the next morning, but she had a surprise waiting for her in the hallway: the girl who could only be the doppelgänger everyone had been talking about, because she did, in fact, look eerily similar to Holly. “Told you,” Emilie said, earning her a disgruntled frown from the other girl. “Meet you at breakfast?” Holly nodded, and Emilie headed off down the hall.</p><p>“Okay, so...this is weird, right?” The girl raised both eyebrows at Holly, who did her best to form a neutral expression.</p><p>“I’m not sure what you mean.”</p><p>“Don’t be daft. You see it, don’t you?”</p><p>Holly shrugged. “See what?” She brushed past the girl and started off toward the dining hall. It was certainly weird, the resemblance, but they lived in a world of <em> magic</em>; surely there were stranger things.</p><p>“Hey!” The girl caught up with her and stood in her path. “Don’t you see it? We could be...I dunno...<em>twins </em> or something.”</p><p>“That’s ridiculous.” Holly put her hands on her hips, but the girl wasn’t budging.</p><p>“What’s your name?”</p><p>“Holly Granger. What’s yours?”</p><p>“Rose Weasley.”</p><p>“There, see? No relation.” Holly tried again, but Rose side-stepped her, and she gave an indignant huff. “I’m not sure what you expect me to say. I don’t have any siblings. And I <em> definitely </em> don’t have a twin. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to go to breakfast.” This time, Rose let her pass. She was nearly to the end of the corridor when Rose spoke again.</p><p>“I’m going to figure this out,” she called to Holly. “Until I do, don’t tell anyone about us.”</p><p>Holly turned and gave a nonchalant shrug. “Tell them what?”</p><p>***</p><p>Rose sighed and slammed another book closed, earning her a sharp look from Madame Blanchet. “<em>Désolée</em>,” she whispered, and the librarian went back to her writing.</p><p>She had been at Beauxbatons for almost two weeks now and had ended up spending most of her free time in the <em> library </em> of all places, searching high and low for anything that might serve as a magical explanation for the similarities between herself and Holly Granger, who, much to Rose’s chagrin, had more or less been avoiding her since Rose had ambushed her outside her dorm on their first morning here. It completely baffled Rose that Holly seemed oblivious to—or at least willing to ignore—just how alike their appearances were, and it frustrated her to no end that she wasn’t remotely interested in getting to the bottom of it. It was either the world’s freakiest coincidence, or something major was going on.</p><p>Rose trudged back to the common room and found Marc and Pauline still up, tossing a quaffle back and forth between them. “Ze library again?” Pauline asked as she entered. “You nearly missed curfew.”</p><p>“I know, I know. I was doing—“</p><p>“<em>Recherche</em>,” the two of them chorused knowingly.</p><p>“Yes.” Rose flopped onto the couch nearest them. “Still nothing.”</p><p>“You know,” Marc said slowly, “zere is a simple way to get your answers.” Rose raised an eyebrow at him, and he tossed her the quaffle. “<em>Écris à ton père</em>.”</p><p>“Ha!” Rose scoffed. “And say what? ‘Hi, Dad, how's the weather? By the way, have I got a secret twin sister you’ve neglected to tell me about all these years?’”</p><p>“Well? Is zat what you suspect?” Pauline pressed.</p><p>“I dunno. I mean...that sounds insane, right?”</p><p>“<em>Oui, mais</em>...how else do you explain it?” Rose frowned. She didn’t have an answer.</p><p>***</p><p>“I <em> told </em> you, Mum, the trip was a bit of a whirlwind.” Hermione cradled the telephone against her shoulder as she bustled around the kitchen, trying to make dinner while she read over her most recent case file. With Holly gone to school, she was working even more than usual, and still bringing work home. The flat was too quiet, and she needed something to fill her time.</p><p>“Yes, but to be that close to London and not even stop by,” Jean complained. “I haven’t seen my granddaughter in months. Not since her birthday.”</p><p>“We were in Paris for three days to get her school things, and then I had to come right back to work. You’ll see us both at Christmas, Mum. Promise.”</p><p>Jean gave a beleaguered sigh. “Alright. And how is <em> work</em>?”</p><p>Hermione frowned. “Why’d you say it like that?”</p><p>“Would you rather discuss your love life?” Hermione could hear her mum’s smirk through the phone and shook her head.</p><p>“Work’s great.”</p><p>“That’s what I thought.” Jean sighed. “Honestly, Hermione, I know you’ve been focused on raising Holly, but now that she’s at school, don’t you suppose you ought to think about trying to meet someone?”</p><p>“No,” Hermione said flatly. “I thought we were talking about my work?”</p><p>“I’m worried about you.”</p><p>“Because I’m not married?”</p><p>“Because I think you’re lonely.”</p><p>“Well, I’m not.”</p><p>“Hermione—“</p><p>“Mum, I have to go, something’s burning. Love you, talk soon!”</p><p>Hermione just barely heard her mother’s (rightfully) disbelieving sigh as she hung up the phone. She <em> was </em> lonely, but only at home, because the flat felt empty without her daughter in it. But she had friends. She got on well with her colleagues. She went on very occasional dates. But romance was not, and never had been, high on her priority list. She had had strong romantic feelings for exactly one person in her life, which had resulted in the only serious relationship she had ever been in, which had subsequently ended in more debilitating heartbreak than she had imagined possible to exist and her living in New York, raising her daughter alone. It wasn’t an experience she had any interest in repeating, despite her mother’s insistence that it was <em> time</em>. As far as Hermione was concerned, the only thing it was <em> time </em> for was dinner.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was an unspoken rule among the Weasley family that the only valid reason to miss Molly’s Sunday dinners at the Burrow was extreme illness, and even then, it really needed to be something contagious. However, on this particular Sunday, Ron just couldn’t do it. It was Halloween, which held its own significance for him, but he hadn’t expected to feel so down about additionally it being his first Halloween away from Rose.</p><p>She was writing to him quite often, but her letters were frustratingly brief and didn’t give him much insight into what was going on at Beauxbatons. Several times his daughter had mentioned some kind of special project she was working on, but she didn’t seem to be making much progress on it, from what he could gather; she had written about spending a lot of time in the library, which made his heart ache in an all too familiar way.</p><p>Ron got up to grab another butterbeer as his Floo lit up with green flames and his sister stepped out into his living room. “Missed you at dinner,” Ginny said, extending the container she was holding to him. “Mum sends her love by way of food.”</p><p>“Thanks. Just wasn’t in the mood tonight.” Ginny nodded as she followed him to the kitchen.</p><p>“I kind of figured. It’s not been your favorite holiday for, oh, about ten years now?”</p><p>Ron glared darkly at her. “Save it, Gin.”</p><p>She looked like she had every intention of pressing the subject but uncharacteristically held her tongue. “How’s Rosie?”</p><p>“Great. I think.” Ron frowned and pulled two butterbeers from the fridge, handing one to Ginny. “She’s spending all her free time in the library.”</p><p>Ginny laughed. “Well, she definitely didn’t get that from <em> you</em>.”</p><p>“She <em> has </em> been kicked out several times by the librarian, though.”</p><p>“That’s our girl.” Ginny paused, then asked hesitantly, “How do you suppose things are going at Ilvermorny?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t know, would I?” Ron took a long swig of his drink. His family all knew better than to broach this subject with him, and though she hadn’t mentioned them by name, Ginny was treading dangerously close to the taboo topic.</p><p>“Don’t you ever think about—“</p><p>“No,” Ron cut her off firmly. “Because if I did, I’d go bloody mental.”</p><p>Ginny sighed but changed gears slightly. “Well, if you’re not thinking about...<em>her</em>...then do you suppose I could interest you to think about someone else?”</p><p>“What are you on about?”</p><p>“My friend Beth who works in the trainer’s office at the Harpies. She thinks you’re cute, Merlin help her, and she’s going to be in town next weekend. What do you say to a double date with her and Harry and I?”</p><p>“That pathetic, am I?” Ron asked with a smirk.</p><p>“You’re not pathetic, but you’re also not a hundred years old,” Ginny chastised him. “We don’t even have to call it a date. Just drinks, yeah?”</p><p>Ron rolled his eyes. “Fine.”</p><p>“Good, because I already told her we’d go.” Ginny chunked her empty bottle into the rubbish bin and headed back to the Floo with a wave.</p><p>Ron sat down at the kitchen table and grimaced. It wasn’t as if he never dated, but the occasions were few and far between. Because, despite what he had told Ginny, not a single day went by that he didn’t think about Hermione and his other daughter.</p><p>***</p><p>Two months into her first year at Beauxbatons, and things were going well for Holly. She was doing well in classes, she had made lots of new friends, and her French had vastly improved since her arrival, which she had wasted no time in pointing out in a letter to her mother, since that had been one of the reasons she had given for coming here.</p><p>The only bit of her schooling experience that wasn’t quite falling in line was the never-ending scrutiny she got from Rose Weasley. Rose hadn’t again attempted to rope Holly into whatever harebrained scheme she had planned, but Holly frequently saw her in the library flipping through books on wizarding genealogy, and she was sure she was still looking for some mysterious connection between them.</p><p>Holly was sure there had to be some logical explanation; after all, what was the alternative? That she and this girl that she had never met were actually sisters? <em> Twins</em>? The idea was preposterous. But at the same time, she hadn’t brought it up to her mum, either, burdened by the tiny, festering idea in the back of her mind that it might actually be true.</p><p>She was in the library on the afternoon of Halloween, working on an essay for transfiguration, when she saw Rose walking purposefully toward her table. Holly sighed inwardly, not only at the interruption, but at the idea of having to take up this conversation again. “I’d like to talk to you,” Rose whispered as she took the seat across from Holly.</p><p>“I'm not doing this with you again,” Holly hissed back. “And I’m busy.”</p><p>“Books have gotten me nowhere. If we’re going to get to the bottom of this, we need to share information.”</p><p>“The bottom of <em> what</em>?” Holly’s voice rose in irritation, earning them a shush from the librarian. “I’ve told you. I’m not interested in your mystery solving adventures.”</p><p>“I’m not asking for your deepest darkest secrets,” Rose lamented. “Just the basics. Like, when’s your birthday?” Holly didn’t answer, just lifted her quill to keep scratching away at her essay, but Rose wasn’t deterred. “Mine’s April sixth.” Holly froze; April sixth was <em> her </em> birthday. She tried to go back to her essay, but her momentary lapse was enough for Rose. “Aha!”</p><p>“<em>Ça suffit</em>!” Madame Blanchet exclaimed in response to Rose’s outburst. “<em>Sortez, maintenant! Et détention, pour les deux</em>!”</p><p>“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Holly grumbled as she gathered her things and retreated from the library. Rose, who had come in empty handed, followed her out without the slightest bit of remorse. “Look, if I sit down and talk to you, and prove that you’re just crazy, will you leave me alone?”</p><p>Rose shrugged. “No promises, but it’s a start.”</p><p>***</p><p>Rose could barely even eat at the Halloween feast that night. She and Holly had the same birthday. Holly hadn’t come out and said it, but it was obvious from her reaction. <em> And </em> she had agreed to talk to her, answer questions. Rose would have to make a list of all the things she had running through her head that she wanted to know. Not just about the logistics of how they had come to be separated, but about Holly’s mum, who was undoubtedly Rose’s mum. She’d never been short on female role models growing up, but she had always been curious about her mum, and her dad flat refused to talk about her. They were serving their detention together the following evening, deep cleaning the school’s supply of potion cauldrons, and it might be the only chance Rose got, so she wanted to be prepared.</p><p>“Okay, promise you’ll be honest,” Rose said as she settled in with the stiff-bristled brush and started to scrub. Across the table, Holly rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. “When’s your birthday?”</p><p>“It’s April sixth, alright? But it’s just--”</p><p>“If you say a coincidence, I swear I’ll throw these slug guts at you.” Rose thought about the list of questions she had stuffed in her pocket. “You’re American?”</p><p>“Sort of. My mother’s English, but she raised me in New York.”</p><p>“What about your dad?”</p><p>Holly shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable for the first time. “He’s English, too, but I’ve never met him. I mean, I did when I was a baby, I suppose.”</p><p>“I’ve never met my mum, either,” Rose said pointedly. “It’s always just been me and my dad.”</p><p>“What’s your dad like?” Holly asked. Rose hadn’t been expecting her to ask anything, but she was glad to answer.</p><p>“He’s the best. He runs a joke shop with my Uncle George, so he’s always got funny things in the house. But he never works too much. Always there when I need someone to talk to. I miss him a lot.”</p><p>“That must be nice.”</p><p>Rose nodded. “What about your mum?”</p><p>“She’s quite brilliant. And kind. She works for the wizarding government in America, to pass laws for the rights of magical creatures. Well, not creatures; she wouldn't like me to say that. House elves, and werewolves, and whatnot.”</p><p>“So, if your mum is English, she must have gone to Hogwarts?” Holly nodded. “Do you know when?”</p><p>“She was in school during the second wizarding war. Had me only a year or so after Voldemort fell.”</p><p>“That’s when my dad was in school, too. He was quite young when I was born. He was in Gryffindor.”</p><p>“So was my mum.”</p><p>“Well then, they must have known each other!”</p><p>“That doesn’t mean that…” Holly trailed off, then said very quietly, “I have a picture, in my trunk. Of my parents together. It’s the only one I’ve ever seen of my dad. My mum had it hidden in her sock drawer, and she let me make a copy to bring with me to school.” Rose held her breath. Holly was finally opening up, and she didn’t want to ruin it. “Would you like to see it?”</p><p>“Are you kidding?” Rose exclaimed. “Of course I would! What are we waiting for?”</p><p>“Detention, remember?” Holly said, though she was smiling slightly as she went back to scrubbing at her cauldron. When they were finally finished, it was all Rose could do not to drag Holly back to the Papillonlisse dormitory at a full speed run. “Wait here,” Holly instructed when they were outside the door to the common room. “I’ll go get it.”</p><p>It felt like hours waiting for Holly to return, and when she did, she was holding the picture close to her chest. “You don’t seem so certain that I’m crazy anymore,” Rose pointed out, taking in how nervous she looked.</p><p>“You’re definitely crazy,” Holly retorted, “but maybe not about this.” She took a deep breath and then handed Rose the picture, and Rose was sure her sharp intake of breath told Holly all she needed to know. Though he was much younger in this picture, the man smiling and dancing with Holly’s mom was undoubtedly Rose’s dad.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Beware the angst on this one. It’s a lot.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> 12 years earlier… </em>
</p><p>“Ron, stop it!” Hermione protested, but her accompanying giggle did little to persuade Ron to actually cease the attack of his lips on her neck. “We’re due for dinner downstairs in ten minutes.”</p><p>“That’s plenty of time,” Ron murmured, his hand drifting beneath her shirt.</p><p>“You’re insatiable.”</p><p>Ron lifted his head and grinned at her. “Guilty.”</p><p>There were exactly twenty-three days before she had to return to Hogwarts for her delayed seventh year, and while that meant that she was in actuality in favor of spending every single moment in Ron’s company—preferably with a large chunk of that time devoted to the activities he was currently initiating— the fact that they both currently lived at the Burrow meant that their opportunities for intimacies were rare and often hurried.</p><p>“We wasted—so much—bloody time—not wasting—any more.” Ron alternated between kissing her and trying to get his point across, but his lips traveled lower as he spoke and Hermione was struggling to even concentrate on what he was saying, let alone care, too overwhelmed with the desires he was stirring up. Not that they were ever far from the surface to begin with.</p><p>Hermione gave a satisfied sigh as he pushed her shirt up to her shoulders. “At least the testing board agreed to let me take the NEWTs early, so it’s only three months.”</p><p>“Not even. I've already got my requests for time off in for all your Hogsmeade weekends.”</p><p>Hermione sat up abruptly. “You have?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>She pulled his face back down to hers, kissing him deeply. “You’re right, ten minutes is plenty of time.”</p><p>***</p><p>“There must be a mistake.”</p><p>Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at Hermione. “I wasn’t aware you had become a fully qualified healer while you were away last year.”</p><p>“I haven’t, of course, but—” Hermione took a deep breath. “Are you sure? I mean...that’s impossible.”</p><p>“Are you sexually active?”</p><p>“I—well—” Hermione stammered and her face burned with embarrassment. “<em>Yes</em>, but—we’ve been careful. Every time.”</p><p>Madam Pomfrey extinguished the glowing blue light from her wand that indicated the news. “Unfortunately, Miss Granger, much like muggle contraceptives, the magical methods are not one hundred percent reliable.”</p><p>“That’s—but—” It was troubling, having both words <em> and </em> magic fail her. “I can’t be... <em> pregnant</em>.” She whispered the word, as if that would make it less real. She was only nineteen. The war had only ended a few months earlier, and her parents were still somewhere in Australia, yet to be located after her elaborate memory charms. She hadn’t even sat her NEWTs yet, though since she was taking them at the end of term, she would at least be out of school before the baby was born. Merlin’s pants. A <em> baby</em>. What would Ron say when she told him?</p><p>“Indeed you are, though. About two months along, by my calculations.” Hermione could feel the panic on her face, and Madam Pomfrey’s expression softened. “You will be just fine, my dear. I will arrange with the Headmistress for you to have a full appointment at St. Mungo’s in the next week or so.”</p><p>Hermione left the Hospital Wing feeling numb. Ginny was waiting up for her in the common room, and the concern on her face was clear immediately. “Everything okay? What did Madam Pomfrey say?”</p><p>“It’s just a stomach bug. I'm going to bed.” Ginny frowned at Hermione’s abrupt dismissal but settled back down into her chair.</p><p>“Sure. ‘Night.”</p><p>Fortunately, they were due for a Hogsmeade visit that very weekend. If they hadn’t been, Hermione would have asked special permission from Professor McGonagall to Floo to Grimmauld Place to break the news to Ron; the fact that they were going to be parents wasn’t something she felt she should tell him via owl.</p><p>He looked positively giddy when she met him in High Street on Saturday, sweeping her up in his arms, and she felt the horrible weight of guilt for what she had to tell him. Ron noticed her lackluster mood immediately. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Hermione was near tears before she could even get the words out. “We need to talk.”</p><p>***</p><p>Ron had been shocked, of course, and had voiced the same indignant protest Hermione had—”But we always did the charm!”—but then he had held her and stroked her hair and promised her that everything would be fine. They had owled back and forth incessantly over the following week, making plans about what they would do after Hermione finished school, where they would live, how they would manage childcare while they both worked, and it felt good to have a plan. Even though no part of her had ever imagined becoming a mother in her teens, Hermione was starting to feel okay about the situation.</p><p>And then they had gone to her first appointment at St. Mungo’s.</p><p>“Everything looks good,” the healer said as she finished up her examination. “I estimate that you’re due on April third, and it seems that you’re going to have two very healthy babies. I see there were some concerns about the after-effects of the <em> cruciatus </em> curse from your medical evaluation last summer, but it appears to be a non-issue.”</p><p>Hermione’s grip on Ron’s hand tightened. “<em>Excuse</em> <em>me</em>?”</p><p>“Sometimes we see in patients who have been victim to the <em> cruciatus </em> a significant amount of scar tissue, and—” Hermione shook her head emphatically.</p><p>“Not <em> that</em>.”</p><p>Ron, whose face had gone alarmingly pale, was clearly on the same wavelength, as he said, “I think what Hermione means is—<em>two </em> babies?”</p><p>“Oh.” The healer checked her chart again, then nodded. “Yes. You’re having twins. Congratulations. Would you like to see them?”</p><p>***</p><p>Things had been chaotic after that, as they had told Ron’s parents, told Harry, spent one Hogsmeade weekend not in Hogsmeade but looking at flats in London, only to realize how horribly expensive they all were. Hermione studied, Ron continued his Auror training, and after the NEWTs and Christmas holidays, they moved into the Burrow, which lasted all of two weeks before Molly’s fussing over Hermione and her growing belly started driving Hermione crazy and she and Ron took Harry up on his offer to live at Grimmauld Place instead, at least for the time being.</p><p>“She means well,” Ron had said, one night not long after they had moved in.</p><p>“I’ve read every baby book I can find and it’s already making my head fit to explode. I don’t need more advice,” Hermione had said.</p><p>It was mid-February, and Hermione felt roughly the size of a house, when Kingsley gave them the news that her parents had been found in Australia. They were doing just fine, and with Hermione’s permission, Kingsley planned to send a small team of British Aurors there to reverse the memory spell and bring them home. Ron, though still technically a trainee, had insisted on being a part of the team to go, and if Hermione’s body hadn’t been so wracked with hormones, she might have been grateful for this, but instead she was just irritated.</p><p>“So you’re going to leave me here alone while you go off on an Outback adventure?” she demanded after Kingsley had left.</p><p>“You won’t be alone, Harry’s here. And I’m sure you can go stay at the Burrow until I get back,” Ron said logically.</p><p>“I don’t want <em> Harry</em>. I don’t want to go to the <em> Burrow</em>. I’m carrying <em> your </em> children, I want <em> you</em>.”</p><p>“Hermione, I’m doing this for you. They’re <em> your </em> parents, and seeing as you can’t go—”</p><p>“What do you mean, I <em> can’t </em> go?” Hermione asked, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do, Ron.”</p><p>“I’m not!” Ron exclaimed, looking rightfully hurt. “You’re over seven months pregnant. The healers won’t let you take a portkey. It’s not safe. For you or the babies.” He cautiously stepped closer to her and reached out a hand to rest on her shoulder. “I don’t have to go, but I thought you might want your parents to have a friendly face there.”</p><p>She should have told him that he was right. She should have thanked him for what he was offering to do for her. Instead, what came out was, “And at what point is your <em> friendly face </em> going to tell them that you got their daughter pregnant?”</p><p>***</p><p>Ron had been much more understanding about this particular fight than Hermione knew she deserved, and when he got back from Australia, her parents in tow, she devoted plenty of time to making it up to him. Jean and Hugo had been shocked enough about everything that had transpired in their absence without being greeted after nearly a year by their very pregnant daughter without any warning, so Ron had had the unfortunate task of breaking that news to them as well. They had taken it in stride, and Hermione was much more receptive to her own mother’s child-rearing advice (to Ron’s suppressed annoyance), and six weeks later, they were the parents to two beautiful redheaded girls.</p><p>But if Hermione had thought that her life would become <em> less </em> stressful after the babies were born, she was sorely mistaken.</p><p>Nobody slept. They were all grumpy. The girls couldn’t get on any kind of regular, synchronized schedule for eating or sleeping, which meant that Ron and Hermione didn’t either, and their previously adorable bickering had turned into cold sniping about whose turn it was to change a diaper or why Ron found it so difficult to put the girls’ clothes into the laundry basket rather than on the floor or how Hermione expected them to have any kind of fulfilling relationship when they were well past the healers’ recommended length of time for postpartum abstinence and she would barely even look at him. The fact of the matter was that Ron was just so tired that he couldn’t have cared less where the clothes ended up and that Hermione was just so terrified of getting pregnant again so soon that she held herself back even though of <em> course </em> she still wanted him...but true to form, talking calmly and rationally had never been their strong suit, and the stress of raising twins exacerbated all of it.</p><p>By the time summer rolled around, they were doing little but arguing. Hermione was frustrated because despite her credentials, she had yet to find a job that appealed to both her interests and her young family’s financial needs. Ron was making enough money as a junior auror to take care of them all, but they wanted to get their own place and move out of Harry’s, and that wasn’t going to happen without Hermione bringing in an income. Both of their parents helped with necessities for the girls, along with plenty of non-necessities—Arthur in particular had taken on the role of doting grandparent with gusto—but for the first time in her life, Hermione felt like she wasn’t pulling her own weight, and she <em> hated </em> it.</p><p>George had offered early on to let her help out at the shop, as few or as many hours as she wanted, and though it took months of convincing, Hermione finally conceded. Ron’s pride was hurt, feeling like he couldn’t provide for his family on his own, and Hermione, if for no other reason than to get out of the house, began picking up more and more shifts, until finally, everything came to a head on Halloween night.</p><p>Hermione had been late at the shop, and when she arrived home to Grimmauld Place that night, the place was a mess. Ron and Rose were both covered in some sort of mushy baby food while Holly wailed nearby in her crib. “Where have you been?” Ron asked sharply, wiping the food from Rose’s face as Hermione went to pick up Holly. “Mum wanted us to come over for Halloween.”</p><p>“It was inventory night at the shop. You’d know that if you ever listened to me,” she couldn’t help snapping back. She bounced Holly on her hip, but the motion did nothing to stop the sobbing.</p><p>Ron rolled his eyes. “Fine. Worst boyfriend ever. Point made. Can you help me out here?”</p><p>“Ron, I’m exhausted!” Hermione exclaimed. “Can’t you take care of them for <em> one night </em> on your own?”</p><p>“Clearly not, I s’pose!” Ron shot back, gesturing around himself to the room. “It’s a wonder I even put my shoes on the right feet in the morning without your help, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I didn’t say that!”</p><p>“You didn’t have to!”</p><p>Hermione let out a groan of frustration. “Stop it! Stop putting words in my mouth! You always do this, Ron, and I’m sick of it!”</p><p>“At least I bloody talk to you! I don’t feel like I even have a girlfriend half the time!”</p><p>“Well, I’m <em> so sorry</em>,” Hermione said, drawing out the words sarcastically, “that what little energy I have is going to the girls and not to you. Is that what you want me to say? That we can just ignore them when they cry—” which they were both now doing “—or need to be fed, or their nappies changed, so that you can <em> feel like you have a girlfriend</em>?”</p><p>When she would look back later, she would realize that that was the moment where an invisible rift had erupted between them: Ron and Rose on one side, and her and Holly on the other. She hadn’t realized, at the time, that the rift would carry them all the way through to the start of their daughters’ magical education, but in hindsight, it was clear that was where it had started.</p><p>The argument had only escalated from there, and they had finally both stormed out in opposite directions, each still holding a baby, and thus, though not entirely intentionally, creating the arrangement that had carried them through the eleven intervening years: Holly and Hermione on one side of the Atlantic, and Rose and Ron on the other.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The revelation had come as a shock, of course. Even Rose, who had been adamant the whole time about the idea that they were long-lost sisters, seemed a bit stunned once the proof was actually staring her in the face. Nonetheless, the girls were practically inseparable after that, peppering each other constantly with questions about the parent they had never known, and what life was like on opposite sides of the ocean.</p><p>They had made a pact, however, not to confront their parents about things via owl. It was obviously a delicate situation, and probably had been for the last eleven years, if not longer. Holly was planning to gently bring up the subject of her father to her mother over Christmas, and let the conversation build from there, while Rose was favoring a more direct approach with her dad, wanting to confront him about it as soon as she set foot in her house.</p><p>“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. You’re going to make him mad,” Holly warned over dinner, as they discussed their upcoming end-of-term exams and the Christmas holidays that would follow shortly after.</p><p>“I could never,” Rose retorted.</p><p>“I’m just saying. What if one of them decides to pull us from Beauxbatons or something, once they find out? Then we won’t get to see each other, and we’ll never get to know them.”</p><p>Rose gasped dramatically. “Holly, you’re a genius!”</p><p>“I know, but why?”</p><p>Rose shoved her papers to the side and leaned forward on the table excitedly. “You want to get to know Dad, right?” Holly nodded. “And I’m <em> dying </em> to know Mum. So, what if, over Christmas holidays, we just...switch places?”</p><p>Holly raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Switch places?”</p><p>“Sure! When everyone heads off for the hols, I’ll go back to New York as you, and you go back to London as me.”</p><p>“Okay, I take it back. <em> That </em> is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.” Holly bent her head back to her potions book, but Rose pulled it out from under her nose. “Hey!”</p><p>“Think about it! It’s only for a couple of weeks. And we can pull it off. We’re twins, aren’t we?”</p><p>“Rose.” Holly leaned forward and adopted her most serious tone. “Christmas is in less than three weeks. It’ll take me that long just to learn all of your cousins’ names.”</p><p>“<em>Our </em> cousins,” Rose corrected.</p><p>“Right. Not to mention the accents. How are you going to get my weird American-English hybrid down in just three weeks?”</p><p>“Oh please, I can do you already.” Rose cleared her throat and repeated, in a startlingly accurate impression of Holly’s voice, “That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”</p><p>“Okay, what about Quidditch? You keep going on and on about this Weasley family match that you play every year on Boxing Day. I hate flying.”</p><p>Rose pondered this for a moment. “We’ll say you—<em>I,</em> rather—slipped on some ice and hurt my ankle. We can transfigure something to look like a cast, so you won’t have to play. Because you’re right, your rubbish flying skills would be a dead giveaway. Anything else?”</p><p>“I’m sure I’ll come up with something. Because there’s <em> no way </em> this is going to work.”</p><p>***</p><p>Hermione leaned against the platform wall in the Gare du Nord, one hand on her coffee and one hand on her suitcase. The train from Beauxbatons was due any minute now, and she was itching to see Holly. Her daughter had been very specific in her last letter about meeting her at platform one, on the muggle side—some first-year Beauxbatons tradition, she’d said—and Hermione was now anxiously scanning the crowd for her daughter’s bright red hair.</p><p>She and Holly spotted each other at the same time, and Hermione grinned. “Hi, darling!” she called, and Holly burst into an excited run towards her, dropping her trunk in the process. “Holly, your trunk,” Hermione protested, but Holly either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care as she crashed into her mother and held her tightly. “Oh, I missed you too, love, but we’ve got to grab your trunk.” She was met with some resistance as she set Holly at arm’s length, and was startled to realize that her daughter’s lovely blue eyes were watering. “What’s the matter?” Hermione asked urgently, holding Holly’s face between her hands and giving her a quick look.</p><p>“I just—missed you so much. Mum.” Holly sniffled and wiped at her eyes. She wasn’t normally so emotional, but Hermione realized that as strong as she was, it would have still been hard on Holly to be away from home for the first time. She hoped then that her surprise would still be a good one.</p><p>“Well, grab your trunk. We’ve got another train to catch.” Holly quirked an eyebrow at her. “We’re spending Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa. I hope that’s okay.”</p><p>“You mean...we’re not going to New York?” Holly asked, and there was an odd sort of longing on her face as she followed Hermione back to her abandoned trunk.</p><p>“Eventually, but we’re spending the first two weeks of your holiday in London. Won’t that be wonderful? We haven’t seen the house since Grandma and Grandpa redid the living room. I <em> think </em> I can even pull some strings to get their new fireplace connected to the Floo Network, can you imagine?” Holly was staring wordlessly at Hermione, who patted anxiously at her coat under the scrutiny. “Have I spilled coffee on myself or something?”</p><p>Holly shook her head. “It’s just been <em> so long </em>since I’ve seen you.”</p><p>Hermione wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “Well, we’ve plenty of time to catch up on the train. As long as we don’t miss it.” She smiled and steered Holly along the platform, their luggage clattering behind them.</p><p>***</p><p>Rose had assured Holly that their father would be easy to spot, that he stood out in any crowd, but the man was still a stranger to her, and she wasn’t confident that she wouldn’t accidentally go barreling into the wrong redhead. They—well, <em> Rose </em> and their dad—had arranged a specific meeting place of muggle platform twelve, chosen because it was the exact opposite end of the train station from the specific meeting place that Holly had arranged for Rose-as-Holly and their mother. After all, the last thing they needed was for their parents to run into each other in the Gare du Nord and ruin the plan before it even got started.</p><p>“Rosie!” Holly turned sharply and sure enough, there was, no doubt about it, her dad. Rose had said he was tall, but he was <em> tall</em>, and his goofy grin was unmistakable from Rose’s pictures. Holly wanted to run to him, but as they had discussed, she was wearing a transfigured foot brace to keep herself out of family Quidditch.</p><p>Ron wrapped her up in a tight hug when he reached her and Holly willed herself not to cry as she greeted him. “Hi, Dad.” The word felt foreign on her tongue, and the fake English accent made it even worse. In spite of that, she wasn’t sure she’d ever been more excited about something. She was with her dad. Finally.</p><p>“What’d you do to your foot, love?” Ron asked as he heaved her trunk up in one hand and put his other arm around her, steering her towards the station exit.</p><p>“I slipped on some ice in the courtyard,” Holly said as rehearsed. “The matron says it’ll be fine, but I won’t be able to play Quidditch this year with the family.” She tried to sound disappointed by this news, as she knew Rose would have been.</p><p>“Why didn’t she just give you Skele-gro?”</p><p>“Er…” By now she expected Rose’s plans to be half-baked at best, but Holly couldn’t believe that <em> she </em> hadn’t thought of how flimsy an excuse a broken foot would be to a family full of wizards. “They’re much more into muggle medicine, at Beauxbatons,” she improvised quickly. “And since it’s started healing the muggle way, I can’t just take the potion now.”</p><p>Ron groaned. “What am I supposed to do without my team’s star chaser?” he asked teasingly.</p><p>“Well, you’ll carry the team, of course,” Holly returned lightly. “You won the Quidditch Cup when you played chaser for Gryffindor.”</p><p>“Twice, in fact, but I played <em> keeper</em>.” Ron turned and gave her a curious look, but thankfully shrugged off her <em> faux pas</em>. “I think all this mountain air has gone to your head. Let’s get you home.”</p><p>“That sounds wonderful,” Holly said, and it really, really did.</p><p>“Chaser, honestly,” Ron laughed as they walked. “Wait until you tell Aunt Ginny.”</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rose talked her mum’s ear off all the way to London, forgetting for the time being her disappointment that she wouldn’t see where Holly and Hermione actually lived. But it didn’t matter. She had finally, finally met her mother, and she was absolutely enthralled with her. Fortunately, based on Hermione’s apparent lack of suspicion that she was on the train with the wrong daughter, Holly was just as inquisitive with their mother as Rose was being. Which suited her just fine, because Rose wanted to know <em> everything </em> about her and their life in New York. (And, of course, what her life had been like when she was with Ron, but Rose would have to work her way up to that particular topic.)</p><p>Once they had reached King’s Cross Station, Hermione and Rose ducked into an apparition point that was disguised as a telephone booth, and Hermione pulled out her wand to apparate them to her parents’ house. Rose gulped nervously; it was rare that her dad side-alonged her anywhere, and she hoped that she didn’t vomit when they got there. And that Holly wasn’t any more used to that particular mode of transportation than she was.</p><p>Moments later, they were standing in an immaculate kitchen on the outskirts of London. “Mum!” Hermione called out, tucking her wand back into her coat. “We’re here!”</p><p>“Oh, look here, she must have snuck in through the back door.” The voice was followed by an older woman who looked strikingly like Hermione, only with grey speckled into her dark brown hair.</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes. “Mum, we didn’t come through the back door, we—“ She stopped abruptly as her parents entered the room, followed by a younger man. The first thing Rose noticed about him was his unnaturally perfect teeth; she hated him on sight.</p><p>“Hope you don’t mind, darling,” her grandfather said as he kissed Hermione’s cheek, and her grandmother fussed over her. “Steven here has just joined our practice and when your mum heard he’d be having takeaway for dinner, she insisted he come eat with us instead.”</p><p>Rose glanced over at her mum as her grandparents traded places. Hermione was wearing an expression of forced politeness, and Rose got the impression that this sort of set-up was not uncommon for her. Aunt Ginny and Grandma Weasley had tried to set her dad up with women before, so she was no stranger to the concept, but never had any of their attempts been quite so blatant. “So you’re a dentist,” Hermione said as she reached out to shake his hand. Dentist. Rose rolled the word around in her mind; what was it Holly said their grandparents did again? Steven smiled again and jolted her memory; that explained the teeth.</p><p>“Yes, been working with your parents for just a couple of weeks now.”</p><p>“Lovely to meet you. I’m sure my parents told you about my daughter, Holly here. I’m a single mum. In New York.” Hermione’s tone was conversational, but it was clear she was pointing out reasons why she shouldn’t date this man, though whether to her parents or Steven, Rose wasn’t sure. She’d always assumed she’d gotten her stubbornness from her dad, but it seemed both of her parents had an obstinate streak. Rose couldn’t quite keep the grin off her face.</p><p>Steven seemed slightly thrown by Hermione’s bluntness, but he recovered quickly. “Well, yes. They speak very highly of you both. Could I get you a drink, Hermione?”</p><p>“Certainly, and keep them coming.” Hermione shot Rose a conspiratorial eye roll as they joined the procession back to the living room, and Rose stopped fighting her smile. This was going to be fun.</p><p>***</p><p>“Honestly, Mum, what were you thinking?” Hermione groaned over tea, later that night, after Steven had left and Holly had gone to bed.</p><p>“Oh, I can’t even invite a nice young man over to my own house anymore?” Jean returned sarcastically. “He’s a coworker of your father’s and mine, Hermione, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”</p><p>“That man was not under the impression that he was here as a <em> coworker </em> of yours, I assure you.” Hermione sat back in her chair and sipped her tea. Hugo was sitting on the couch with his nose in the paper, but Hermione knew better than to think he wasn’t listening. “And in front of Holly!”</p><p>“Well, best to just rip the plaster off with these sort of things.”</p><p>“So it <em> was </em> a set-up.”</p><p>“It was a nice gesture for a friend of ours, who is new in town, and if the two of you happened to hit it off, then so much the better.” Hermione glared at her mum, who went on despite the stern look, “Darling, you’re thirty-one years old, don’t you think it’s time you found someone? A partner?”</p><p>“That’s ridiculous,” Hermione snapped. “I get along just fine on my own.”</p><p>“I know you do, and I’m not saying you’re not <em> capable </em> on your own, only that it would be nice to share your life with someone.”</p><p>“I share my life with Holly.”</p><p>“And now that she’s away at school, that’s much less true. She’s gone nine months out of the year. And besides, she needs a father.”</p><p>“She <em> has </em> a father,” Hermione forced out through gritted teeth. “Or have you forgotten where she got her red hair from?”</p><p>“<em>You </em> seem to have.” Jean was glaring back now. “I think it’s absurd, the way you two ruptured this family. Aren’t you ever going to tell the poor girl that she has a sister?”</p><p>Hermione glanced urgently toward the stairs. “Will you keep your voice down? This is not how I’d like her to find out, thank you very much.”</p><p>“And how <em> is </em> she supposed to find out, dear?”</p><p>“<em>When </em> might be a better question,” Hugo piped up from behind the paper.</p><p>“True. She’s nearly a teenager. And she has a right to know. And to know her father. Her <em> real </em> father.”</p><p>Hermione’s heart was pounding with the stress of the argument. “Then what’s all this business about me finding a partner?” she asked, latching onto the tangent. “If you’re so keen on Holly knowing her father.”</p><p>“Well, I’m not stupid enough to suggest you get back together with Ron,” Jean replied with a roll of her eyes. “You’d take my head clean off with that wand of yours. But would it be such a terrible thing just to be cordial with him? So you can actually see <em> both </em> of your daughters?”</p><p>Hermione stood abruptly. “We came up with this arrangement so we’d never have to see each other again, and I’m not going to start now. Goodnight.” Jean sighed but didn’t protest as Hermione headed up the stairs. She peeked into Holly’s room as she passed, and was relieved to see that she was sound asleep.</p><p>They were doing fine, she and Holly, Hermione thought to herself as she crawled into bed. What sense was there in rocking the boat now?</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Holly was overwhelmed from the minute she set foot in the Burrow. She was surrounded by family, which was entirely foreign to her, having grown up only knowing her mum and her mum’s parents. Here, she had not only grandparents, but also aunts, uncles, cousins, and one boy with blue hair who didn’t have a proper title on the family tree but who Rose had assured her was family all the same.</p><p>“Rose, darling, what have you done to your foot?” Molly asked as she ushered Holly and Ron into the house and they were immediately swarmed with hugs.</p><p>“She’ll be fine, Mum,” Ron insisted. “Just won’t be playing in the family match.”</p><p>“We are <em> not </em> repicking teams,” Ginny said firmly, wrapping her free arm around Holly as she bounced a dark haired toddler on her other hip.</p><p>“I will beat you again, with or without Rosie,” Ron retorted, kissing his sister on the cheek and taking the child from her. “Hey, Al. How’s my favorite youngest Potter?”</p><p>“Oh, nonsense, you two,” Molly scoffed. “I’ll have you fixed right up, dear, don’t you worry about missing the match.”</p><p>“Oh, Grandma, thank you, but Madam Toussaint said I shouldn’t use any magic on it since it’s been healing the muggle way.”</p><p>“Don’t be silly, it’s only a potion.”</p><p>Ron frowned, and Holly silently begged him to defend her lie—not that he had any idea it was a lie. “Mum, are you sure? If the school nurse said—“</p><p>“That’s rubbish,” Molly interrupted lightly. “I’ll just go get the Skele-gro. Keep an eye on my potatoes.” Ron rolled his eyes but obligingly stepped over to the stove and stirred something that Molly had simmering in a pot there as Victoire and Teddy barreled into the kitchen.</p><p>“Rose!” Victoire exclaimed, hugging her. “Come with us, I want to hear all about Beauxbatons!”</p><p>Holly let herself be escorted into the living room, where more of the family was gathered. She had thought it silly at first, the amount of time she had spent studying Rose’s family tree in between revising for her actual exams, but now, surrounded by Weasleys, she was glad to have done it. There were <em> so many </em> of them. Holly took a deep breath, trying to get into Rose’s exuberant mindset. It wasn’t that she was shy, exactly, she was just much less... <em> loud</em>, than Rose was. Although, in Rose’s defense, it had become quickly apparent that if you weren’t loud in this house, you wouldn’t be heard.</p><p>“Anyway, Teddy’s mad I got sorted Gryffindor, but honestly, Teddy, were you surprised?” Victoire rattled on as the three of them resumed decorating the tree, an activity that they had been in the midst of when Ron and Holly had arrived.</p><p>“Not surprised, and not mad, either. I’m the only Hufflepuff in the family because I’m a <em> lone wolf</em>. Get it?” Teddy nudged Victoire, who groaned.</p><p>“Merlin, you and your awful puns. Uncle Charlie, how’s the tree-topper coming? We’re nearly done over here.”</p><p>“Just about finished.” Across the room, Charlie and George were dressing what appeared to be a real, stunned, garden gnome, and Holly couldn’t help herself.</p><p>“Is that a <em> gnome</em>?” she blurted incredulously.</p><p>Four pairs of eyes looked back at her with a mix of confusion and concern. “Of course it’s a gnome,” Charlie finally replied. “What else would we put on top of the tree?”</p><p>Holly groaned internally. She <em> told </em> Rose that three weeks was not nearly enough time for them to exchange everything that they needed to know about each other's families, but she had definitely gotten the harder job. And she would have thought Rose could have mentioned a tradition as odd as using a <em> real life gnome </em> as decoration.</p><p>“Just thought we might have mixed it up this year,” she said with a shrug, hoping she sounded more casual than terrified. She had already messed up once with her dad, misremembering his Quidditch position, and now here she had done it again. She had only been in England for a few hours, and she still had the entire Christmas holiday to get through. With so many eyes on her, Holly was going to be busted in no time. And then what was she supposed to do?</p><p>***</p><p>“So, Mum, I was thinking about last night,” Rose ventured as she followed Hermione through the crowded department store. The two of them were out Christmas shopping with Jean, but Rose had wanted to wait until they were alone to bring this topic up with her mum.</p><p>“I’ve been trying to <em> stop </em> thinking about it,” Hermione groaned, but she smiled at Rose. “You’ve nothing to worry about, love.”</p><p>“Well, not with <em> that </em> man, but…” Rose hesitated and turned to look at a display table of fancy chocolates. She wondered if it was too soon to ask about Hermione’s love life; after all, <em> she </em> had only met her just yesterday. But Holly had assured her that her relationship with their mum was open and communicative, so hopefully the fact that she was Holly right now would give her the freedom to ask what she wanted to know.</p><p>“But what?”</p><p>“Do you ever think about getting married?” Rose blurted before she could overthink it.</p><p>If her mum was put off by the question, she didn’t show it. “I don’t think it’s necessary for a person’s happiness that they be married,” Hermione mused. “Though try telling that to your grandmother. Not that there’s anything wrong with the concept, mind you. But it’s not for everyone.”</p><p>“What about the f-word?”</p><p>“The <em> f-word</em>?” Hermione repeated incredulously.</p><p>“My father.”</p><p>“Oh. <em> That </em> f-word,” Hermione laughed. “What about him?”</p><p>“Did you ever think about marrying <em> him</em>? Before, I mean.”</p><p>Hermione hesitated before she answered. “I suppose I did. But we were very young, you know. I had barely even finished school when you were born.”</p><p>“Did you love him?”</p><p>Hermione chuckled again, but she looked decidedly more uncomfortable than she had before. “Why the sudden curiosity about your dad?”</p><p>“Maybe because he’s never mentioned,” Rose said with a roll of her eyes. She didn’t even have to fake her indignation, because her dad never talked about her mum, either. “And honestly, mum, you can’t blame a kid for wondering. At least tell me what he was like.”</p><p>Hermione was now the one intently studying a display to avoid eye contact, but Rose was hanging on her every word. “He was in Gryffindor, like me. We’d been friends since our first year. He was funny, and charming, and infuriating, and…” She sighed. “And yes, if you must know, I loved him very much. Alright?”</p><p>“Alright,” Rose agreed with a grin. She spotted her grandmother coming towards them, and knew Hermione wouldn’t want to discuss this any further with her mum around. But she had at least opened the door to further conversation. Switching places with Holly was the best idea she had ever had.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy New Year everyone! Thanks to all of you who are following along with this story! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Agreeing to switch places with Rose was the worst idea she had ever had.</p><p>Molly had “fixed” Holly’s ankle straight away, and now she only had three days to figure out how to get out of the Boxing Day Quidditch match. She was thinking about feigning illness, but Molly surely would have a remedy for anything she could come up with short of dragon pox, and where would she have gotten dragon pox from, anyway? Even then, Uncle Charlie would probably know what to do.</p><p>Holly took the opportunity after breakfast to escape the relentless activity of the Burrow and headed out to her grandfather’s shed. She just needed someplace quiet to think. The shed was full of broomsticks, most of them well-worn, and Holly took a deep breath. This was a Quidditch family. Rose had probably been riding a broom before she could walk, and if Holly so much as attempted it, she would completely blow their cover. Flying was not a pastime that had ever been taken up in the Granger household, and Holly could count on one hand the number of times she’d been on a broom before school.</p><p>There was, surprisingly, a very old muggle telephone in the corner of the shed and though she wasn’t hopeful it would be functional, Holly picked up the receiver anyway and was shocked to hear a dial tone. Praying that her mother didn’t know the telephone number of the Burrow, and that the phone was wired for international calls, Holly dialed the landline number of her flat in New York. Maybe Rose would have an idea of what to do, some lie that her family would believe of why she suddenly couldn’t play Quidditch.</p><p>But the phone rang several times before Hermione’s cheery voice sounded on the answering machine. Holly hung up with a groan, and jumped when she turned around and saw her Uncle George standing in the doorway to the shed. “Oh, hi, Uncle George. I was just trying to call a friend from school. Muggleborn, you know.”</p><p>George shook his head and grinned mischievously. “You don’t have to lie to me, Holly.”</p><p>Holly froze. “Who’s Holly? Why would you call me that?”</p><p>“Oh, relax, I won’t tell anyone. You can be honest with me.” George raised an eyebrow and waited. Holly hesitated. He obviously knew, or at least suspected, that she wasn’t Rose.</p><p>“It was the gnome, wasn’t it?” she asked sullenly, giving in. One day, and already she’d been found out.</p><p>“Did Rose tell you I was a twin?” George returned. “I knew the minute I saw you that you weren’t Rose. Call it twin-tuition. But yeah, the thing with the gnome confirmed it. It’s always been Rose’s favorite part of the tree.”</p><p>“You won’t tell my dad, will you?” Holly asked nervously. “We only did it because I wanted to know what he was like, and Rose wanted to meet Mum.”</p><p>“Nah, I won’t tell. It’s been too long since this house was privy to some solid twin-style mischief. I’m intrigued, though. How did the two of you meet up?”</p><p>“At school.”</p><p>“No kidding? Hermione sent you to Beauxbatons, too?” Holly nodded. “Oh, the irony. I bet they both thought there wasn’t a chance in hell of this happening.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I didn’t see it coming, either.”</p><p>George laughed. “Fair point. So, let me guess—the foot injury was fake?”</p><p>“How could you tell?”</p><p>“Just a hunch. I’ve seen your mum on a broom, so I’m guessing you’re not the flyer that Rosie is.”</p><p>“Not even close.”</p><p>“Well, I can help you out there.” George reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of sweets. “The classics never go out of style.”</p><p>Holly stepped closer and took one of the sweets. “What are these?”</p><p>“Part of our Skivving Snackboxes line. One of the first things Fred and I ever invented. Have your pick. I can give you a nosebleed, uncontrollable vomiting, whatever you fancy to get out of the match.”</p><p>“That sounds horrible.” Holly wrinkled her nose at the thought, but she didn’t have much choice. “I’ll take a Nosebleed Nougat, I suppose.”</p><p>“Excellent choice. Welcome to the Weasley side of the family, kiddo.”</p><p>***</p><p>Ron was restless that night. He was overjoyed to have his daughter home for the holidays, but something felt <em> off</em>. He wandered from his old attic bedroom down through the quiet house, intent on some biscuits and tea, and was surprised to find that the kitchen wasn’t quite so empty. His mum was seated at the table with a skein of purple yarn in front of her, knitting away.</p><p>“I thought you had done all the jumpers already,” Ron said as he pulled a teacup down from the cabinet.</p><p>“Well, I had, and then Lucy informed me in no uncertain terms that she was quite partial to violet.”</p><p>Ron frowned as he sat down. “D’you mean to tell me that I could have asked for a different color than maroon years ago? Or is choosing a color a privilege reserved for your grandchildren?”</p><p>“Of course not. What color would you like, dear?”</p><p>“It’s okay. Maroon is Rosie’s favorite, and she likes that ours match.” Ron pulled the tin of biscuits that Ginny and Victoire had made earlier toward himself and popped one in his mouth.</p><p>Molly let him chew silently for a few minutes before she ventured, “Sickle for your thoughts? I assume you didn’t come down here in the middle of the night to watch me knit.”</p><p>“Does Rose seem different to you?” Ron asked after another moment.</p><p>“Of course she does,” Molly agreed immediately. “She’s becoming a young woman, Ron, and she’s away from home for the first time. She’s going to meet new people, learn new things...I’d be worried if she <em> wasn’t </em> a bit different.”</p><p>“Yeah, but...it’s more than that.”</p><p>“What do you suppose it is?”</p><p>“I dunno. She’s almost like…” Ron almost smiled, but the thought behind the words stung too much. “Like how I imagine Holly would be, now.”</p><p>“Well,” Molly tutted. “That may be, she’s half Hermione after all, and those traits were bound to surface eventually, but the fact of the matter is you’ve no idea what Holly is like now.”</p><p>“That’s not fair, Mum,” Ron said softly.</p><p>“You’re right, it’s <em> not </em> fair,” Molly replied fiercely, setting down her knitting with a clunk. “Not to you, not to Hermione, and certainly not to your daughters, but we all have to live with the choice you two made.”</p><p>“We did what we thought was best, at the time.”</p><p>“And at no point in the past eleven years did it occur to you to reevaluate what was <em> best </em>?” Ron put his face in his hands with a sigh, and he felt rather than saw Molly move to sit next to him. Her voice was calmer when she spoke again. “Ron. You’re a wonderful father to Rose, and I couldn’t be more proud of you for that. But what you and Hermione did, splitting those girls up? You can’t avoid the truth forever, you know.”</p><p>“She’s going to hate me, Mum. And how am I supposed to tell her everything without knowing where Hermione is on it? Won’t it be worse if she knows she has a sister and then can’t see her?”</p><p>“Well, there’s quite a simple way to find out where Hermione stands on the issue.” Molly raised her eyebrows, and Ron shook his head.</p><p>“She <em> already </em> hates me.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. You haven’t seen the girl in over a decade. She’s probably quite moved on by now.”</p><p>Ron was sure this was meant to be reassuring, but the thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably. Though he never mentioned when he had heard from her, he knew that Harry still had occasional contact with Hermione. Surely she would have told Harry if anything major had happened in her life—if she’d gotten married, or had more kids—and Harry would surely have told Ron. Wouldn’t he?</p><p>“Is that my weekly hint that I ought to move on, too?” Ron teased half-heartedly.</p><p>“Oh, dear, you know that I only want what’s best for you, you and Rosie,” Molly sighed. “I want you happy, that’s all.”</p><p>“I know, Mum.” Ron leaned over and kissed Molly’s cheek before he stood. “I’ll think about it. Goodnight.”</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was always somewhat disorienting, staying at her parents’ house. Hermione’s old room was more or less unchanged, and it often felt like stepping into someone else’s life. She had done her best to put this part of her life away, to start fresh with Holly in New York, but the parts of herself that she had left behind were always here, waiting for her.</p><p>Hermione snapped the photo album shut and shoved it back under the bed, where it needed to stay. It wouldn’t do to dwell on what-ifs and might-have-beens.</p><p>As she headed down the stairs, she could hear her daughter chattering away to her parents and shook her head slightly. She’d raised Holly to be confident at expressing her opinions, so the extrovertedness wasn’t new for her, but since she had been home, Holly seemed more...something. Blunt, perhaps. Not quite as polished as Hermione was used to her being, which seemed an odd change for her to have made in France. Hermione remembered the Beauxbatons students from fourth year; Hogwarts had been an uncultured nightmare for a lot of them, including Fleur at first. Hermione thought fleetingly of Victoire; she would have started school this year, too, and where would Bill and Fleur have sent her? If it was Beauxbatons, was there any chance of her and Holly making the connection that they were cousins? Maybe her parents were right; keeping Holly’s family a secret from her was only getting more complicated the older she got.</p><p>“Anyway, so Dupont’s got the quaffle, he dodges both bludgers, and—oh, hi Mum.”</p><p>“Holly was just telling us about a match between—who was it again, dear?” Jean asked.</p><p>“Ombrelune and Bellefeuille.”</p><p>Hermione chuckled. “You actually went to a Quidditch match, where your house wasn’t even playing?”</p><p>“I’m in—“ Holly froze for a split second, and Hermione frowned as she sat beside her on the couch. “Papillonlisse. So yes, I, er...I went to a match for the other houses.” Holly met her gaze, but her ears were turning red.</p><p>“Oh. You just never mentioned anything about Quidditch before, in your letters.”</p><p>“Well, I know you don’t really like Quidditch.”</p><p>“That’s not true. And I’m interested in everything you’re doing at school.”</p><p>“Okay. Well, anyway then, the bludgers both miss him by inches, and…”</p><p>Hermione listened as Holly continued with her animated play-by-play of the match. There definitely hadn’t been a lot of Quidditch talk in their house, so maybe Holly had really taken a shining to the sport after being properly exposed to it. But it felt as if she were sitting on the couch with Rose instead.</p><p>She shook her head of the unbidden thought. Her other daughter could have inherited her fear of flying just as sure as Holly had, and she had no way of knowing one way or the other. Looking at old photos of herself and Ron had done her head in. “I’m going to make tea,” Hermione announced, dropping a kiss to Holly’s forehead as she stood. A strong cup of earl grey was exactly what she needed.</p><p>***</p><p>Holly got up early on the morning of Boxing Day and dressed quickly. Rose had raved about her grandmother’s famous Weasley jumpers, and had fortunately included the fact that they were all to wear them for the Quidditch match. She supposed there was nothing they could have done about Uncle George’s supposed twin radar, but she didn’t need to give the rest of the family any more clues that she wasn’t who she claimed to be, like turning up to play in the match in the wrong sweater.</p><p>Uncle George had said that one Nosebleed Nougat would do the trick, but Holly stuffed an extra one into her pocket just in case. She couldn’t very well have Molly fix her right up and then send her back out to play.</p><p>The Burrow was relatively quiet downstairs, but Holly was convinced that at least two or three members of the family were up and about at all times; this morning, it was her grandfather, Uncle Percy, and Aunt Angelina. “Good morning,” Holly said to them as she entered the kitchen.</p><p>“Good morning, Rose,” Uncle Percy greeted her. “Excited for the match today?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, I can’t wait!” Holly tried to inject a sufficient amount of enthusiasm into her voice, but she wasn’t sure she quite got there.</p><p>An hour later, the whole family was gathered out in the orchard. Holly was clutching Rose’s broom in one hand and the Nosebleed Nougat in her pocket in the other. Her dad and Aunt Ginny were arguing over whether Aunt Angelina, who would normally be playing with Aunt Ginny’s team but was refereeing instead today because she was pregnant, could be replaced with a reluctant Aunt Fleur, or if someone from Ron’s team should have to sit out. Well, Holly’s trick would take care of that problem.</p><p>Feigning a cough, she turned her head and slipped the Nougat into her mouth. Sure enough, after only a couple of minutes, she felt the drip begin from her nose. Molly, ever observant, noticed first. “Oh, goodness me!” she exclaimed, rushing to Holly’s side. Behind her, George winked at Holly. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, dear.”</p><p>“Hang on, Mum, I’ll take her,” Ron interrupted, stepping abruptly away from Aunt Ginny.</p><p>“What about the match?” Ginny asked indignantly.</p><p>“Start without us,” Ron called over his shoulder, steering Holly back toward the house.</p><p>Ron sat Holly down at the kitchen table and pulled out his wand, casting a spell that had her nose feeling instantly back to normal and another that cleaned the blood up from her jumper. Holly watched as he then summoned two cups of tea and sat down across from her. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked as he handed her a cup.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Holly returned nervously.</p><p>Ron leveled his gaze at her. “Come on, Rosie. As your dad and co-owner of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, you don’t think I know the difference between a real nosebleed and one that Uncle George gave you? What’s with the Nougat? Why don’t you want to play in the match?”</p><p>“I just…” Holly shifted in her chair and stared into her teacup to avoid Ron’s piercing gaze. She had really thought that using Uncle George’s trick sweet would be a simple solution. “Don’t feel up to playing this year.”</p><p>“But <em> why</em>?” Ron pressed. “I’m not mad or anything, of course, but this isn’t like you. Whatever the reason is, you can tell me. You can always tell me anything, Rose, as long as it’s the truth.”</p><p>Holly’s stomach twisted. She had the same arrangement with her mum. The truth, always. It wasn’t fair, what they were doing with their parents. They should have just written and told them that they had met at school, and dealt with the consequences, whatever they might be. “Anything?” she asked softly.</p><p>“<em>Anything</em>.”</p><p>Holly took a deep breath and gripped her teacup so hard she was worried it might break before she admitted, “I’m not Rose.”</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ron was absolutely dumbfounded. He stared across the table at his daughter, who was nervously biting her lip in the same way her mother did and staring back at him. “<em>Holly</em>?” he breathed. But that was impossible, wasn’t it?</p><p>She gave a tiny nod of her head. “Rose and I, we—we met at school, at Beauxbatons, and the whole thing just sort of spilled out.” Rose—no, Holly, apparently—covered her face with her hands and muttered, “Please don’t hate me.”</p><p>Ron barely let her finish the sentence before he was out of his chair, pulling her into a hug. His daughter. His <em> other </em> daughter, that is. “I could never hate you,” he promised. “I’ve loved you since the minute you were born, all these years.” Holly was crying softly into his jumper now.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m sorry we didn’t just tell you that we’d met.” Holly pulled away from him and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “It was...well, sort of Rose’s idea. To trade lives for Christmas.”</p><p>He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Merlin, why doesn’t that surprise me? So, wait, then Rose is…?”</p><p>“With Mum, in New York.”</p><p>“And your mum has no idea?”</p><p>Holly shook her head, and Ron sighed heavily. He had to tell her. Ten years they hadn’t seen or spoken to each other, and <em> this </em> was the first thing he had to say to Hermione.</p><p>“Can we just finish out the holiday?” Holly asked timidly. “I mean, I really wanted to spend time with you and everybody, and Rose will kill me if her time with Mum gets cut short.”</p><p>“Well…” Ron said slowly. “Technically, you belong to your mum, and Rose belongs to me. I don’t think it’s fair to your mum that we don’t tell her what’s going on.”</p><p>“His and hers kids,” Holly scoffed, blowing a frizzy red curl out of her face. “No offense, Dad, but this arrangement really sucks.”</p><p>Ron laughed, though it wasn’t really funny; she was right. “I agree, it totally sucks. Listen, let me get in touch with your mum, and we’ll see what we can do, okay? Don’t worry about a thing.”</p><p>Holly hugged him again as Harry entered from the backyard and eyed the pair of them curiously. “Everything okay in here?”</p><p>“Holly, why don’t you head back out and watch the match and let Uncle Harry and I chat for a bit?” Holly nodded and headed out the back door, as Harry’s eyes widened.</p><p>“What’d you just call her?” he asked incredulously.</p><p>“Tell me you didn’t know,” Ron replied darkly in answer.</p><p>“Know <em> what</em>? Is that really—? But how did—?”</p><p>“Hermione sent Holly to Beauxbatons, too. Tell me you didn’t know.”</p><p>“I—Ron, no, of course not.” Harry held his hands up in surrender. “She didn’t tell me. I would never do that to you. To either of you.”</p><p>Ron sighed and pulled a bottle of firewhiskey from the pantry, pouring them both a glass. “They met at school. And apparently they take after Fred and George, because instead of confronting us about it, they decided to just switch places.” Ron knocked his drink back and poured another. “I—I need to get in touch with Hermione.”</p><p>“Well, you’re in luck.” Harry downed his whiskey as well. “She’s in London.” Ron looked up at Harry, suddenly pondering the merits of drinking straight from the bottle. “She and Holly—shit, she and Rose, I guess—are spending Christmas with her parents.” Ron swore softly. He couldn’t keep this from her, but he had hoped he could break the ice with a trans-Atlantic phone call before he actually had to <em> see </em> her after all these years. “Want me to go with you?”</p><p>Ron shook his head. “We’ve been avoiding this too long. I need to take care of things myself.”</p><p>That afternoon, though, as he walked up to the Grangers’ front door, he was regretting not taking Harry up on his offer. He forced himself to knock on the door before he lost his nerve. It only took a moment before the door swung open to reveal Hermione’s dad, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hair as he saw Ron standing there.</p><p>“Ron?” Hugo asked disbelievingly, stepping out onto the front porch with him. “Is everything alright?”</p><p>“I’m sorry to just turn up like this, but I need to speak to Hermione. Please.”</p><p>“She’s not here. She and Holly and Jean are out hitting the Boxing Day sales. Is everything okay? Is Rose okay?”</p><p>Ron nodded. “Rose is fine.” Rose was, apparently, hitting the Boxing Day sales with Hermione and Jean.</p><p>“I’ll tell her you stopped by, if you like?”</p><p>“I’m, er, headed to work. Could you ask her to come by the shop? Wheezes, I mean. I’ll be there the rest of the night.”</p><p>Hugo nodded. “I’ll tell her.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Ron was down on the sidewalk before Hugo spoke again.</p><p>“Ron?” He hesitated and turned to look back at Hugo. “It’s good to see you, son. You don’t have to be such a stranger, you know.” Ron felt a renewed pang of guilt, at what they’d done not only to their daughters, but to their parents who had both lost a grandchild in the ordeal. His parents had treated Hermione like one of their own, and her parents (though they couldn’t have been thrilled with his part in their only daughter’s teen pregnancy) had never been anything but wonderful to him and supportive of them both. He owed it to all of them to make things right with Hermione—or, at least right enough for them to have a relationship with both of the twins. Which was, of course, what he really wanted too.</p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ron gave him a small smile as he turned again and headed up the sidewalk to the secluded spot he had apparated to. He had done what he could for the time being. Now he just had to hope that Hermione would come.</p><p>***</p><p>Jean had gone overboard as usual, and Hermione was fully expecting some good-natured ribbing from her dad when the three of them returned from shopping late that afternoon laden with bags. But Hugo looked very serious as they entered, and the tone of his voice as he suggested Holly go wash up before dinner had Hermione instantly concerned. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“You may want to…” Hugo gestured vaguely at the pocket where Hermione kept her wand. “Mute the room.”</p><p>Hermione frowned but cast a silencing charm around them. “What’s going on, Dad?”</p><p>“Ron came by here to see you.”</p><p>Her dad had never been one to mince words, but she occasionally wished that he would; Hermione felt suddenly faint. “Why?” she gasped. “Is it Rose? Is she—“</p><p>Hugo shook his head. “He didn’t say why, but I asked the same thing. Said she’s fine, he just needs to speak to you. He’d like you to stop by the joke shop tonight.”</p><p>Hermione sat down hard on the couch and rubbed at her temples. Ron came to see her. <em> Ron</em>. She couldn’t fathom what he could possibly have to say to her; it surely couldn’t be anything good. What if he had met someone, was getting married? Surely Harry would have given her some kind of heads-up if that were the case, though Ron was strictly left out of any communication she had with him, as were the girls. But maybe he wanted to see Holly, wanted to be a part of her life, and that would necessarily include Rose as well. Merlin, what would Holly say when she found out she had a twin?</p><p>She felt her parents sit down on either side of her on the sofa, and her mother’s slender arm wrapped around her shoulder. “You can’t avoid him forever, darling,” she said soothingly. “At least go and find out what he wants.” Hermione shook her head, forcing back the inexplicable tears she could feel threatening.</p><p>“How did he seem?” she asked, turning to her dad.</p><p>“Well, a bit nervous. But imagine how you’d feel turning up at Arthur and Molly’s after all these years.” Hugo paused. “He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, if there was a hidden question there.”</p><p>Hermione smiled slightly. “There wasn’t, but that’s good to know, I suppose.” She sighed. “I’ve got to go, haven’t I?”</p><p>“It must be important, for him to come to you out of the blue,” Jean replied with a nod. “Come on dear, let’s have dinner, and then you can get going. We can entertain Holly just fine for a few hours while you’re out.”</p><p>Despite her mum’s assurances, Hermione could barely eat dinner, and afterwards, she spent an uncharacteristic amount of time in front of her bedroom mirror studying her appearance. She wasn’t normally one to agonize over how her hair looked, or what to wear—and, frankly, never had even when she was with Ron, because he had always told her she was beautiful no matter how she looked—but she hadn’t seen Ron in <em> ten years</em>. And besides, the longer she took to get ready to go, the longer she could delay the inevitable.</p><p>She took her time walking down Diagon Alley when she arrived. There were still people around, but it wasn’t crowded by any means. She supposed people had finished their post-holiday shopping earlier, and she wasn’t sure if it was better for them to have whatever this conversation was in private or with an audience.</p><p>Hermione finally stood outside the loud exterior of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and looked in the window. She saw Ron immediately, helping a customer by a display of fanged frisbees, and her heart stopped. It wasn’t fair, she thought irrationally, for him to look <em> so </em>good. He was still tall, of course, but he wasn’t so lanky anymore; he wasn’t a boy anymore. She had half a mind to turn around and walk down to the owlery and just send him a note, but she hadn’t been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing.</p><p>She pushed open the door, and true to the twins, instead of a normal bell to signal the arrival of a customer, George’s magically recorded voice called loudly into the shop, “Welcome to Wheezes!” making Hermione jump in surprise.</p><p>Ron must have been quite used to this, because he barely flinched at the sound, just the slightest flicker of his eyes toward the door before he refocused on the man he was talking to. But then it was as if his brain registered what his eyes had seen, and he turned his head to <em> really </em> look at her, his blue eyes as intense as ever. He nodded absently to the customer, who thanked him and took a green frisbee to the register.</p><p>Hermione forced herself to take a step, then another, until she was close enough for them to hear each other, though Buckbeak could have still comfortably fit between them; if she got any closer to him, she might spontaneously combust.</p><p>They both stared at each other for a long moment before Ron finally broke the ice. “Hi.”</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’d been horribly distracted all night, pondering—no, <em> obsessing</em>, really—about what he would say to Hermione, when and if she showed up, and the best his brain could come up with in the moment was <em> hi</em>?</p><p>But Hermione was looking up at him with a slight smile. “Hi,” she echoed.</p><p>There was nothing and everything to say all at once. How was he meant to start a conversation with the love of his life after ten years of silence without sounding like an absolute prick? “Have a nice Christmas?” he finally settled for.</p><p>She nodded. “It was quiet. How’s your family?”</p><p>“Good, good.” It hurt more than he thought it would to see her again. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, to forget the last horrible ten years without her had never happened, to just pick up where they had left off and be a family again...but that was impossible. For all intents and purposes, the woman standing in front of him was a complete stranger.</p><p>There was awkward silence between them until Hermione finally asked softly, “Why am I here, Ron?”</p><p>Her words hit him like a herd of hippogriffs. Of course, she wasn’t here for small talk. His eyes flickered down to her empty left hand, though the lack of a ring didn’t necessarily mean anything. They had once been very committed to each other despite the absence of one, though Ron had certainly thought about it, back then. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he turned abruptly and called to Verity at the front counter. “We’ll be right back.”</p><p>“Take your time. Hi, Hermione!” Hermione gave her a tentative wave in return and followed Ron toward the back of the store. He saw a puzzled frown cross Hermione’s face as he opened the door to the staircase next to the one that led to the storeroom.</p><p>When the shop had first opened, Fred and George had lived upstairs, and they had had a small desk and a filing cabinet crammed into the storeroom that served as an office, but after the war and Fred’s death, George had hated living there and converted the flat into real office space as soon as he could. Of course, that had coincided with Ron coming on board at the shop full time, which hadn’t happened until Hermione left, but she followed him without question.</p><p>“It looks really nice up here,” she said finally as Ron shut the door to his office behind them and circled his desk to sit down. “I didn’t realize George had done so much work on the place.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, it’s been ten years, a lot has changed.” He couldn’t stop the bitterness that seeped into his voice, but he barreled on before Hermione could snap back and start an argument. “We’ve got a bit of a situation.”</p><p>“I figured as much.” Hermione conjured a chair and sat down across from him. “What’s going on? It’s about the girls, I assume, or you’d have just sent a message through Harry.”</p><p>Ron nodded. “They, er…” He frowned and rubbed at his neck. “They know about each other.”</p><p>Hermione’s eyes widened. “You <em> told </em> Rose?” she blurted accusingly, sitting up in her chair and fixing him with a familiar annoyed glare. “Honestly, Ron, I think we both knew we’d have to tell them eventually, but you could have at least mentioned it to me first.”</p><p>“For the record,” Ron returned coldly, “what <em> I </em> choose to share with <em> my </em> daughter is none of your damn business, because that’s the arrangement that <em> you </em> chose.”</p><p>“<em>We </em> chose,” she interjected, though it had never, to Ron, felt like he’d had much say in the matter.</p><p>“Regardless...they <em> both </em> know. Because they’ve both been at Beauxbatons since September.”</p><p>“Wait, wait...you didn’t send Rose to Hogwarts?” Ron shook his head. “Why?”</p><p>“Her request. Too much of a legacy at Hogwarts, she said, wanted to blaze her own path. Why isn’t Holly at Ilvermorny?”</p><p>Hermione shrugged. “She asked to go to Beauxbatons.” She gasped suddenly. “Merlin, do you think they already knew?”</p><p>“No, they met at school.”</p><p>“Rose told you that?”</p><p>“Actually…” Ron hesitated, but this was the whole reason he’d asked her here, wasn’t it? “Holly told me that.”</p><p>Hermione frowned at him. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“Holly’s at the Burrow right now. You have Rose, at your parents’ house.”</p><p>Hermione scoffed, but she got up from her chair and began to pace. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ron.”</p><p>“They switched places, Hermione,” he insisted, standing to face her. “They swapped lives because they wanted to get to know the other half of their family.”</p><p>“And exactly how did you crack this little mystery?” she asked derisively.</p><p>“Because George gave Holly a Skivving Snackbox to help her get out of the family Quidditch match earlier. Rose would never.”</p><p>Hermione seemed to be fighting a smile. “Holly doesn’t fly. No one to teach her.”</p><p>“I figured. No offense.” Hermione shrugged.</p><p>“So I’ve had Rose all week?”</p><p>“Looks that way.”</p><p>“And Holly’s been with you?”</p><p>“Yup.”</p><p>“Pretending to be each other?” Ron nodded, and Hermione glanced around the room. “You still keep firewhiskey around here somewhere?” Ron smirked and summoned the bottle from the cabinet, along with two glasses. He leaned against his desk and handed Hermione a glass, and he was surely imagining the jolt that went through him as her fingers brushed his. “So what do we do?”</p><p>“Well, for starters, I’d tell Rose that you know what they did.”</p><p>“I mean…” Hermione looked down into her glass, avoiding his gaze. “Going forward. We can’t exactly keep them apart now.”</p><p>“Let’s just worry about one thing at a time. Talk to Rose, and then...I think it’s important we talk to them together. They’re going to have questions.”</p><p>Hermione’s eyes were slightly teary as she looked back up at him. “I don’t know if I have the answers,” she admitted in a whisper.</p><p>Ron swallowed hard. He felt the same way, but it was shocking to hear her say it. “We’ll figure it out.” He reached out and tentatively brushed the one tear that had fallen from Hermione’s cheek. Her eyes drifted shut at his touch, and then she suddenly came back to herself, stepping away from him and setting the empty glass down on his desk.</p><p>“So, shall I bring Rose by the Burrow tomorrow then?” she asked, resuming her businesslike tone.</p><p>“Um…” Ron hesitated, disconcerted by the mood change. “Yeah, sure. After breakfast?”</p><p>“Okay, good. See you tomorrow, then.” She turned and swept out of the room without another word.</p><p>Ron sighed and sat down again, pouring himself another small glass of firewhiskey. He supposed that had gone about as well as it could have, considering the way they had left things all those years ago. She hadn’t screamed at him, or hexed him...he hadn’t accidentally snogged her senseless...But tomorrow they would have to finally face the repercussions of splitting up their daughters, and Ron was sure his next encounter with Hermione wouldn’t run quite so smoothly.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The entire family had been fussing over Holly since the reveal the day before. Her cousins had endless questions about New York, and Aunt Ginny had taken it on as a personal mission to teach her to fly despite her protests, and Molly, in addition to presenting her with eleven years’ worth of her own Weasley jumpers that had been procured from a Spell-o-taped box in the attic, had taken to emptying the pantry of all of its contents in a whirlwind effort to learn all of Holly’s favorite foods. It was still a bit overwhelming to be cared for by so many people, but less so knowing that their love was directed at <em> her </em> and not just at Rose.</p><p>“What would you like in your pancakes, dear?” Molly asked from where she was whipping up a huge batch at the stove. “Fruit? Nuts? Chocolate chips?”</p><p>“Oh, I usually just have some porridge for breakfast.”</p><p>“Nonsense. It took some time to get your mum eating like a Weasley, too,” Molly tutted. “Can’t go wrong with chocolate chip.” She turned back to the stove, and Uncle Charlie winked at Holly from across the table.</p><p>“You’ll get used to it,” he said in an exaggerated whisper, earning him a cuff to the back of the head from his mum.</p><p>Holly’s dad wandered into the kitchen then, looking rather bleary-eyed. “You got home late,” Uncle George noted, looking mischievous. “How was your date?”</p><p>Ron glared at him as Holly looked curiously at Uncle George. “Wasn’t a date,” he muttered as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “And it was—er, fine, I guess.”</p><p>“You had a date?” Holly couldn’t help asking.</p><p>“It <em> wasn’t </em>a date,” Ron said more firmly, kissing the top of her head in greeting. “I saw your mum last night.”</p><p>There was a loud clang from the stove, and Molly whirled to face Ron. “You saw Hermione?”</p><p>“Told you I was going to.”</p><p>“Yes, well, I didn’t realize that you <em> had </em>. You should have invited her over for breakfast.”</p><p>Ron rolled his eyes. “She’ll be here in a bit. She—“ he looked pointedly over at Holly “—<em>and </em> Rose.”</p><p>Holly’s stomach dropped. “You’re switching us back?”</p><p>Every eye in the kitchen was suddenly on Ron, awaiting his answer. “We have a lot to discuss,” he replied evasively.</p><p>“Ronald Weasley, you cannot honestly expect to continue this ridiculous—“</p><p>“Mum!” Ron cut her off. “I love you, but when I say <em> we </em>, I do not mean the entire family.”</p><p>Molly looked like she had more to say, but her eyes cut to Holly before she turned back to her cooking without any further comment. Ron sat down beside Holly and sipped at his coffee.</p><p>“Can’t we just spend some time together before we go back to school?” Holly asked softly. “The four of us?”</p><p>Ron looked slightly pained when he answered slowly, “I would like that very much.”</p><p>“Then what’s the problem?” Molly gave a triumphant sounding <em> hmph </em> from the stove.</p><p>“The problem is that your mum and I live very separate lives, and I’m not even sure how long she’s planning to be here.”</p><p>“Didn’t get much talking done, did you?” Charlie winked at Ron, who gave him a very stern glare in return.</p><p>“And I’m quite sure she’s not going to go all the way back to New York without you.”</p><p>“Let <em> me </em> talk to her,” Holly said confidently.</p><p>Ron’s lips twitched with the effort of holding back a grin. “You think you can persuade her?”</p><p>“I know I can.” Holly looked over at Ron. Her mum had always said she couldn’t resist Holly’s brilliant blue eyes, and she finally understood why: Holly had a hunch she’d once had a similar weakness for her dad’s brilliant blue eyes. And with any luck, she still did. All three of them together, Hermione really didn’t stand a chance, Holly thought mischievously.</p><p>***</p><p>Rose had been asleep when her mum got home from whatever she’d been up to the night before, so she wasn’t sure what prompted the huge hug Hermione gave her when she arrived in the dining room for breakfast. “Hermione, darling, are you alright?” Jean asked, noting as Rose did that her mum looked like she was about to cry as she sat across from her.</p><p>“How was your meeting?” Hugo added, his tone concerned.</p><p>“Oh, it was…” Hermione paused. “Enlightening.” Both of Rose’s grandparents frowned in confusion. Hermione glanced at them quickly before her gaze fixed back on Rose. “Mum, Dad, you remember your other granddaughter, Rose.”</p><p>Rose froze as she looked back at her mum. “<em>What</em>?” Hugo and Jean chorused, now looking at Rose in disbelief.</p><p>“I—how—what?” Rose sputtered, wondering if it was even remotely possible that this was a shot in the dark by Hermione and not her cover blown.</p><p>“I saw your dad last night,” she said, tucking into her typical bowl of porridge. “The two of you aren’t quite as sneaky as you imagine.”</p><p>“You <em> saw </em> Dad?”</p><p>“Hold on just one minute here,” Hugo said, now staring at his daughter. “Hermione, are you sure about this?”</p><p>“Well, if she’s not, this was quite a ridiculous way to break the news to Holly,” Jean pointed out. “Who doesn’t look nearly as confused as she should, if this were in fact news.”</p><p>All of the adults were watching her now, and Rose grimaced. Her cover was definitely blown. “Grandma’s right,” she sighed, dropping Holly’s difficult accent in favor of her own. “I’m not Holly.”</p><p>Jean rose from her seat immediately and wrapped Rose up in a hug. Hugo still looked like he was trying to work out a complicated maths equation in his head. “How did this happen?” he questioned, now examining Rose in amazement.</p><p>“Do you want to tell them or shall I?” Hermione asked Rose with a teasing smile.</p><p>“Holly and I met at Beauxbatons, and we sort of sussed everything out together. And we...well, I wanted to meet Mum, and Holly wanted to meet Dad, so we just...switched places for Christmas.” Rose paused; none of them seemed angry, but this was Holly’s family, not hers, yet, and she felt the need to protect her. “It was my idea. To switch. Not Holly’s. So don’t be mad at her, when you see her.”</p><p>“Oh, darling, I’m not mad at all,” Hermione assured her. “But you do need to finish eating quickly and go get dressed.”</p><p>“Where are we going?” Rose asked curiously.</p><p>“To the Burrow.”</p><p>As much as Rose loved her dad’s childhood home, it was the last place she wanted to be right now. Her mum taking her there could only mean one thing. “You and Dad are switching us back, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Your father and I thought it was best that the four of us all sit down and talk. Together.”</p><p>“So, you’re <em> not </em> switching us back?”</p><p>Hermione sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. “Let’s wait until we’re all together, okay? Nothing’s been decided one way or another.”</p><p>“Do Holly and I get a say this time?” Rose asked, more sharply than she’d meant to. At first, she’d been so preoccupied with making a connection with Holly, and then the focus had been on their plan to switch places, but now that that had been foiled, Rose realized she very much wanted answers. What reason could her parents possibly have had for raising them apart?</p><p>Hermione didn’t even flinch. “Yes. I think it’s important that you do.”</p><p>***</p><p>Ron was pacing his bedroom when there was a knock on the door and Harry poked his head in. “Are they here?” Ron asked him anxiously.</p><p>Harry shook his head as he entered and shut the door behind him. “What are you so nervous for? You saw her last night.”</p><p>“Yeah, but now we have to actually <em> talk </em> about things.”</p><p>“Never been a strong point for the two of you,” Harry quipped. Ron glared at him. “Look, just be honest. With the twins. And with Hermione.”</p><p>Ron hesitated, but he had to ask. “Is she seeing anyone?”</p><p>Harry smirked; Ron wanted to hex him. “Does it matter?”</p><p>“Fuck. She is, isn’t she?”</p><p>Harry shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.” His voice was softer when he asked again, “Does it matter?”</p><p>“Bloody hell, Harry, you know it does. You really going to make me say it?”</p><p>Harry shrugged. “Think of it as a practice round for saying it to Hermione.”</p><p>Ron looked down at his shoes. “You know I’ve never felt about anyone else the way I felt about her.”</p><p>“Felt or feel?” Ron was saved from replying by Ginny’s shout from downstairs that Hermione and Rose had arrived, but he could tell from Harry’s knowing look that the answer was obvious. “C’mon,” Harry said, clapping him encouragingly on the back. “Let’s go.”</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It felt extremely weird to be back at the Burrow after all this time, in part because it felt like no time had passed at all. Other than the inhabitants, not much had changed about the magical house. Hermione was greeted warmly by everyone but one conspicuously absent redhead, and of course Rose was as well. She was obviously very comfortable at the Burrow, and amidst the constantly expanding Weasley family.</p><p>Although she expected it, being the whole reason she was here and all, it was extremely jarring to see the twins together again, now all grown up. Holly had bounded into the room last, followed shortly by Arthur—“Holly was just telling me about the wonders of a hair dryer,” he said to Hermione—and went to hug Rose before she turned sheepishly to Hermione. “Hi, Mum.”</p><p>Hermione pulled her into a hug. “I missed you,” she whispered into her daughter’s unruly hair.</p><p>“I missed you, too,” Holly whispered back, as Ginny called upstairs to Ron. “I’m sorry about this.”</p><p>Hermione smiled slightly as she pulled back. “I’m not.”</p><p>Ron descended the stairs into the living room, followed closely by Harry, and his eyes immediately found Rose. “Dad!” she squealed, running over to him. Ron grinned as he lifted his daughter off her feet, and Hermione’s heart gave an insistent lurch; he and Rose were obviously as close as she and Holly were, and she wanted both of their relationships to extend to both twins. This was the first necessary, uncomfortable step towards making that a reality.</p><p>“You’ve got some explaining to do,” she heard him say to Rose, who looked back at him defiantly.</p><p>“So have you,” Rose retorted, one eyebrow raised at him.</p><p>“Think that’s our cue,” Bill said as he started herding the family out of the room. They all headed off in different directions until only Ron, Hermione, Rose, and Holly were left.</p><p>Rose and Holly turned as a unit and sat side-by-side on the couch, looking expectantly at Ron and Hermione. Hermione wished that they had the same sort of solidarity on their side, but she and Ron hadn’t been a duo in a very long time. She felt outnumbered as she gingerly took the seat nearest Rose. Ron pulled a wooden chair that had made its way in from the dining room over to the couch and straddled it backwards, his arms resting across the top. “Why don’t we start at the beginning,” he suggested. “When you two met?”</p><p>Both girls frowned at him. “That’s not the beginning,” Holly said indignantly. “We’re almost twelve years old. Start there.”</p><p>Hermione glanced over at Ron, and he made a motion for her to speak. She took a deep breath and looked back at her daughters. How was she ever meant to explain all that had happened? “Well, your dad and I met our first year at Hogwarts,” she began, but Rose made a noise like a buzzer and shook her head.</p><p>“Too far. You got together after the war, right?”</p><p>Ron and Hermione both nodded. “And the two of you came along very quickly,” he said lightly.</p><p>“Not our fault,” Holly pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest and clearly not amused. Hermione chuckled.</p><p>“No, it wasn’t. I was still in school when I learned I was pregnant. We hadn’t even gotten Grandma and Grandpa back from Australia yet.”</p><p>“Wait, why were they in Australia?” Rose asked. Holly had heard this story, but Hermione wasn’t sure how much, if anything, Rose knew about her side of the family. If the knowledge Hermione had given Holly about the Weasleys was anything to go by, it wasn’t a lot.</p><p>Ron explained how Hermione had modified their memories to keep them safe during the war. “And then when the Aurors found them, I went to help bring them home.” He glanced awkwardly at Hermione, likely remembering the same fight that she was that they’d had over his trip.</p><p>“So what happened after we were born?” Holly asked.</p><p>“Yeah, why’d you break up?” Rose added.</p><p>Hermione picked at her jeans, refusing to look at Ron. She tried to maintain eye contact with each of the girls, but damn, they looked so much like him, and always had. Ten years later, she still wasn’t exactly sure how it had all gone so wrong. How she had so flippantly walked away from the only boy she had ever loved—who was, though now a man, still the only person she’d ever had such feelings about. “It was...very hard. Trying to raise twins at our age.”</p><p>“We could’ve had help,” Ron muttered sarcastically.</p><p>“We <em> did </em> have help. I wanted help from <em> you</em>,” Hermione said, trying hard to keep her voice even.</p><p>“I was working, Hermione.”</p><p>“So was I. Eventually.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ron scoffed. “I remember.”</p><p>Hermione stood abruptly. “Can I see you in the kitchen, please?”</p><p>“I’m guessing this was a point of contention?” Rose asked, eyebrows raised.</p><p>Ron rolled his eyes but stood. “We’ll be right back,” he said to the girls, who looked frustrated at having their story interrupted.</p><p>Hermione was ready to kick the whole family out of the kitchen if need be, but Harry was the only one in there, and he had been privy to plenty of good, bad, and otherwise between them through the years. She sealed the room with a silencing charm and spun to face Ron. “I’m not going to fight with you in front of the girls,” she snapped, “but what makes you think that your sarcasm is in any way helpful here?”</p><p>“They asked what happened, Hermione, I’m not going to sugar-coat things,” Ron replied irritably. “We owe them that much.”</p><p>“So this is going well so far?” Harry joked, watching them over a mug of coffee.</p><p>“Shut it, Harry.” Hermione shot him a glare before she turned back to Ron. “They’re also eleven years old, Ron, I don’t think they need to know every little detail. We’ll just go back in there and say that things didn’t work out, and we broke up.”</p><p>“You can tell Holly whatever after-school-special version of things that you want, but I thought the whole point of this was to tell them the <em> truth</em>. And that’s exactly what I intend to give Rose, with or without you here to filter it.”</p><p>“That wasn’t the plan!” Hermione yelled at him.</p><p>“You’re right, but the plan’s gone to shit now, if you haven’t noticed!” Ron’s voice raised to match hers. “The plan was for you and I never to see each other again, but here we are! So what now, Hermione? Run back to America instead of actually working things out? Not like it’d be the first time.”</p><p>Hermione reached for her wand, but Harry was faster, and he had her disarmed in seconds. Hermione turned her anger on him, though Ron was looking annoyingly smug about this turn of events, which fortunately distracted him enough for Harry to disarm him, too. Ron watched his best friend catch his wand, his face rapidly reddening. “Hey!” he protested.</p><p>Harry set all three wands onto the table with a clatter and stood between the two of them. “Look, we all told both of you eleven years ago that this was an idiotic plan that would never last,” he said fiercely. “Now the twins are back together, and that means that like it or not, the two of you have got to find a way to be civil to each other.”</p><p>Hermione struggled to force her expression to soften as she addressed Ron. “Fine. What would you like to tell them?”</p><p>“Frankly, Hermione, I still don’t know what the hell happened. It was like...one day you were there, and the next day you weren’t.”</p><p>Harry took a tentative step towards the door. “Should I…?”</p><p>“<em>No</em>,” Ron and Hermione chorused, and Harry reluctantly sat back down.</p><p>“It just felt like nothing was going according to plan.”</p><p>“Nothing?” Ron repeated sarcastically. “Thanks a lot.”</p><p>“We were never supposed to be parents at nineteen, Ron, much less to <em> twins</em>,” Hermione lamented. “We were supposed to have careers, and lives, and…” She trailed off, unsure how else to explain.</p><p>“That’s such bullshit, Hermione,” he snapped, clearly frustrated. Harry was looking ever more uncomfortable as he reached for a discarded copy of the <em> Prophet </em> to hide behind. “Reckon you still ended up with a life and a career, didn’t you?”</p><p>“Oh, sure, just dismiss all of my concerns. Why would any of my feelings be valid?” Hermione shot back.</p><p>“Of course they were valid, but fuck...<em> nothing</em>?” Ron stepped closer to her, and the chill in his voice as he continued was more alarming than when he was yelling. “I was terrified of a lot of things back then, Hermione. Scared I’d be rubbish as a dad, scared I’d fail out of the Auror Academy...scared for you, that you wouldn’t find a job you liked, and that you wouldn’t feel fulfilled just being a mum.” He was so close to her now that she had to crane her neck to look up at him. “But the one thing I was never, <em> ever </em> afraid of was doing it all with you.”</p><p>Hermione stood frozen, staring up at him. Before she could find the words to reply, there was a knock at the kitchen door, and Percy poked his head in. “Er...the girls would like to know if the two of you have killed each other in here. I’ll tell them you’re both still standing, but don’t make a liar out of me, alright?” Hermione pressed her hands to her temples as Ron brushed past her.</p><p>“I’ll go along with whatever you want to say to them,” he told her, his tone still frosty as he moved to follow Percy. “Let’s just get this over with.”</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rose huffed and pulled her ear from the kitchen door, leaning her back against it instead. “I can’t hear a damn thing,” she grumbled. “Where’s one of Uncle George’s Extendable Ears when you need one?”</p><p>Holly frowned at her from where she still sat on the couch. “I told you they’d be mad.”</p><p>“They’re mad at each other, not at us.” Rose waved a hand dismissively.</p><p>“And that’s better, somehow?”</p><p>“Come on, did you really think Mum just disappeared to New York with you for no reason?”</p><p>Holly sighed, letting her silence serve as agreement. She supposed that as long as they could work out an arrangement that allowed her and Rose to stay close—which, for a majority of the time, just meant letting them both continue to attend Beauxbatons—it wasn’t really necessary for her parents to like each other. It wasn’t as if she had really expected that they could just be a normal family after all this time, her and Rose and their parents together. Maybe they could just alternate holidays or something; summers in New York, Christmas at the Burrow…</p><p>“Besides,” Rose went on, shaking Holly from her thoughts, “it’s obvious they still love each other.”</p><p>“Stop it,” Holly snapped immediately.</p><p>“Stop what?” Rose asked, her tone too innocent to be believable.</p><p>“Whatever you’re thinking. Or plotting. Stop it.”</p><p>Rose smirked, but before she could say anything else, Uncle Percy had walked into the room. “Where are your mum and dad?” Rose nodded to the door behind her.</p><p>“Having a sidebar. And of course, I can’t hear anything,” Rose complained. “Mind making sure they haven’t killed each other?”</p><p>“Well, knowing the two of them, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Percy chuckled as he disappeared into the kitchen.</p><p>“We’ve meddled enough,” Holly hissed at Rose, wanting to make sure she got this point across while they were still alone. “They’ve clearly got enough issues without you playing matchmaker.”</p><p>“No idea what you mean,” Rose replied with a grin as Percy reentered the room, followed shortly by Ron and Hermione, who both looked even grumpier than when they had left. “So, what’s the story?”</p><p>Ron glared at her as Hermione answered. “There’s no story. We were very young, and it just didn’t work out between your dad and I, as young relationships rarely do.” Holly sensed her mum’s discomfort, and the answer was clearly rehearsed, though Holly had no intention of pointing that out.</p><p>“Are we going to spend the rest of Christmas break together?” she asked instead.</p><p>“Well, your grandparents would like to see you as well, Holly, and I’ve got to get back to New York in a few days for work, like we planned.” Ron’s facial expressions hinted that he had thoughts about this, but he remained silent.</p><p>“Mum, that’s rubbish!” Rose exclaimed.</p><p>“Rose, don’t talk to your mother like that,” Ron scolded, though he didn’t seem particularly put off by it.</p><p>“Holly, you’ll come back to London with me tonight. Rose, you can come too, if you want to and your dad says it’s okay, and then, when I go back to New York…” She glanced over at Ron, but he was staring at the carpet. “We haven’t discussed this, but Holly, if you’d like to stay here until you go back for spring term, that would be fine. With me. As long as it’s okay with your dad.”</p><p>Ron looked over at her sharply, and Holly wondered suddenly if her mum had a previously undisclosed talent for legilimency; her parents seemed to be having a silent conversation that she and Rose weren’t privy to. “Yeah,” Ron said finally, eyes still locked on Hermione’s. “Yeah, that’s fine, of course. I can take them both to Paris for the train.”</p><p>“Good, then it’s settled.” Hermione stood again. “Your grandfather wanted to show me something in his shed, if you’ll excuse me.”</p><p>Holly felt extremely conflicted as she watched her mum leave the room. New York was home, although she did want to stay longer in England; that had been the whole point of this misadventure Rose had convinced her to partake in. But it felt unfair to her mum to make her go back to New York, alone. Holly sighed. It was supposed to make everything better, her and Rose reunited, but it only seemed to be getting more complicated by the minute.</p><p>***</p><p>Ron hadn’t been sure what to expect out of Hermione’s visit to the Burrow, or how long she would stay. His mum, reliably, had insisted she stay for dinner, and as the afternoon wore on, she seemed to have settled in with his family like no time had passed. This, of course, didn’t include him; the one time they had accidentally ended up alone in a room together, she had quickly muttered something about needing to use the loo and disappeared.</p><p>He hadn’t meant to fight with her earlier, truly, but the girls had been so quick to bring up their relationship that it had caught him off guard. But Harry was right: if they were going to make this work, they were going to have to get used to being around each other.</p><p>Unwilling to split up, Rose had decided to go back to the Grangers’ with Hermione and Holly for the few days before Hermione left to return to New York. They were pulling their coats on by the door after dinner, and Ron knew this was likely the last he would see of Hermione for a while. With a deep breath, he walked over and addressed the twins. “You girls mind letting me have a word with your mum?”</p><p>Rose’s eyes lit up with a mischievous glint that he recognized all too well. “Take your time,” she replied, and grabbed Holly’s arm to drag her back to the living room.</p><p>Hermione looked up at him questioningly, and he motioned to the front door. She opened it and stepped out onto the porch. Ron immediately wished he’d grabbed his coat as well, but at least he had his latest Christmas jumper on. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about earlier,” he blurted.</p><p>“It’s alright,” Hermione nodded. “I’m sorry, too. I want us…” She paused and Ron held his breath, wondering what the end of her sentence could be. “I want us to have a good relationship. For the girls, of course.”</p><p>“Right. For the girls. Of course,” Ron echoed. “Are you sure you’re alright with Holly staying here?”</p><p>“Yes, I think that’s best. Honestly, it’s probably what we should’ve done years ago.”</p><p>Ron frowned at her. “What d’you mean?”</p><p>Hermione shuffled her feet and avoided his gaze. “It wouldn’t have been fair to you, of course...I mean, you would’ve had help, but still, two infants alone...but...they have family here. I can’t help but feel like Holly missed out on a proper childhood, with just me.”</p><p>“Hermione.” If she objected to Ron’s hands on her shoulders, she didn’t say anything, but he wanted to make sure he got this point across with no misunderstanding between them. “You’re a great mum. You always have been. I…” He hesitated, not sure how brutally honest he was allowed to be with her. “It was a shitty situation, what happened with us, but I never had any concerns about Holly...missing out, or—or anything else, being with you.”</p><p>“Ditto.” She smiled slightly at him slightly. “We really fucked this up, didn’t we?” He barked out a laugh in spite of himself.</p><p>“Who taught you to swear like that?” he asked, only partially teasing. She certainly hadn’t approved of such language when they’d been together, and it made him wonder again what her relationship status was. She hadn’t said, and he hadn’t asked.</p><p>To his surprise, she reached up and rested a hand on his cheek. “<em>You </em> did.” She smiled up at him, and for one brief moment of insanity, he thought it might not be the worst thing in the world if he just leaned in and kissed her, but then the front door opened and the twins appeared, Holly dragging Rose this time.</p><p>“We’re all set,” Holly announced. Hermione dropped her hand and took a step back.</p><p>“Okay, great. So, shall I just bring them back here in a few days?”</p><p>Ron shook his head. “I’m heading home tomorrow, you can bring them there. I’ll owl you the address.”</p><p>“Dad, I know where we live,” Rose said with a roll of her eyes.</p><p>“Oh. Right. Obviously.” He leaned down to give both of the girls a hug. “See you soon, loves.” Rose and Holly stepped off the porch, Rose glancing backwards over her shoulder at them as Hermione lingered in front of him. “Thanks for this.”</p><p>She nodded. “You too. See you in a few days, then.”</p><p>“Yeah. See you.” Ron thought he could probably get away with kissing her cheek as a farewell gesture, but instead he settled for reaching out to give her hand a squeeze, which she returned with a smile before heading out into the yard after their daughters.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was only a single-sized bed in the Grangers’ guest room, so Hermione had moved her suitcase into there, leaving the twins in her old room, which suited Rose just fine.</p><p>“You’re wasting your time,” Holly admonished as she watched Rose pick through their mum’s closet. “You don’t think I’ve dug around in there a million times over the years, when I was looking for stuff about Dad?”</p><p>“Yes, but you’re not as crafty as I am.”</p><p>“I couldn’t use magic before, you mean.”</p><p>Rose shot a grin at her over her shoulder. “Same difference. <em> Revelio</em>.”</p><p>Holly huffed and slid out of bed to join Rose in the closet. “What exactly are you looking for?”</p><p>Rose shrugged. “We didn’t get much out of them earlier. I’m just curious about when they were younger.”</p><p>“When they were together?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Rose sighed. “You’re probably right, though. About trying to get them back together.”</p><p>“I’m <em> always </em> right,” Holly retorted.</p><p>“Didn’t you ever think about it, though? How it would be to be a family?”</p><p>“I mean...sort of, I guess. But I didn’t know about you, so the vision I had when I was little is all wrong anyway. I think we just have to take what we got. They’re not splitting us up. We’re both going back to Beauxbatons.” Holly shrugged and turned around. “We did it, Rose. It’s a win.”</p><p>Rose wished she could feel victorious about it, but the whole situation felt incomplete. She didn’t know how to describe it, but she knew, seeing her parents together today, that she’d never seen her dad look at anyone the way he had looked at her mum. Not that he’d put much effort into dating over the years, and she had only on rare occasions even seen him with a woman. But that in itself had to mean something, didn’t it?</p><p>“You know, just taking what we got is how we ended up spending eleven years apart,” Rose pointed out, moving from the closet to examine the bookshelf, which was full of pictures that conspicuously excluded her dad. “Reckon I’m a bit sick of just taking what we get.”</p><p>Holly raised an eyebrow. “So get back together the two people who split us up in the first place?” she asked skeptically.</p><p>“Either that, or we’re doomed to a lifetime of split holidays and Grandma’s awkward setups.”</p><p>“Grandma likes to set up Dad on dates?”</p><p>“Well, yes, but I meant this Grandma.” Rose made a vague motion toward the hallway. “You should have seen the bloke she invited over to meet Mum the other night. What a ponce.”</p><p>Holly’s eyes widened. “Okay, maybe you’re right.”</p><p>“I’m <em> what</em>?” Rose grinned triumphantly.</p><p>“Shut it. What’d you have in mind?”</p><p>Rose plopped down on the bed next to Holly, the wheels in her head already spinning. “I thought you’d never ask.”</p><p>***</p><p>The time with Rose and Holly had gone by so quickly. Hermione knew she shouldn’t be sad about leaving them—it was, after all, only another few days before they would go back to school, anyway—but she had really only just gotten Rose back into her life, and she wasn’t quite ready to let her go.</p><p>She was packing up her things, preparing to return to New York the next day, when the twins appeared in the doorway to the guest room, both grinning. “The two of you look quite mischievous,” she teased, dropping a sweater into her suitcase.</p><p>“No mischief,” Holly said. “But we wanted to do something nice for you and Dad. You know, for letting us spend all this time together.”</p><p>“We thought that when you take us back to Dad’s tonight, we could all have dinner together,” Rose chimed in.</p><p>“Oh, that’s lovely, girls. Does your dad know? He may have made other plans with you tonight.”</p><p>“Oh, we took care of that.” Hermione raised an eyebrow at Rose. “Uncle George helped us make arrangements.” Holly jabbed Rose with her elbow, giving Hermione the impression that Rose had said more than she was supposed to, though she really hadn’t said much of anything.</p><p>“Anyway, we picked out something for you to wear as well,” Holly added, and reached back out into the hallway to retrieve a floaty lilac dress that they must have dug from the depths of her closet.</p><p>Torn between laughing and crying at the memories the dress evoked, Hermione joked, “I don’t imagine I’ll be able to fit into that anymore. I haven’t worn it since before you two.”</p><p>“Are you a witch or aren’t you?” Rose scolded.</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes lightly as she took the dress from Holly. “I’ll see what I can do with it. Is this a fancy place we’re going, then?”</p><p>“Trust us, Mum. You’re going to love it.”</p><p>That evening, the three of them were walking down Diagon Alley, quite dressed up beneath their winter coats, and Hermione was very curious what their daughters had cooked up. If George was involved, it could really have been anything.</p><p>Ron was waiting outside a restaurant just a couple of shops down from Wheezes, and Hermione’s heart skipped a beat when she realized that he was wearing the same dress robes that he had been at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, the same occasion on which she had last worn this dress. She glanced at the twins, who had rushed ahead to greet their dad, and wondered how they could possibly have known—but then she remembered the picture, the only one she had ever shown Holly of Ron.</p><p>“Alright, you two, what’s all this about?” Ron was asking them as Hermione caught up.</p><p>“Come on, you’ll see,” Rose replied, leading the way into the restaurant.</p><p>The picture explained the outfits, but they had obviously leaned heavily on George for the atmosphere. The restaurant had been cleared out except for one table off to the side, and a dance floor that Hermione imagined was not normally there took up most of the available space. And the decorations, though not identical, were very similar to the ones from the wedding.</p><p>“How in the world did you two pull this off?” Hermione asked, looking around in wonder.</p><p>“Uncle George helped a bit.”</p><p>“A <em> bit</em>, Rose, really?”</p><p>“Alright, Uncle George helped a lot.” Holly grinned. “It’s ours for the night.”</p><p>“But...the table’s only set for two,” Ron noted, and Hermione’s eyes darted that direction.</p><p>“Oh. That’s the other part of the surprise,” Rose said brightly. “We’re not joining you.”</p><p>“You’re not?” Hermione scolded herself for not having been more suspicious of this plan.</p><p>“We told you we wanted to do something nice for you and Dad,” Holly replied. “So, here it is. Enjoy, see you in a bit!” She tugged at Rose’s arm, and the two of them backed out into the cold, both seemingly fighting giggles.</p><p>Ron looked over at Hermione. “Reckon we were just tricked by two eleven-year-olds,” he said with a hint of a smile. “Moments like these, I think we’d have been better off if they <em> hadn’t </em> gotten your brains.”</p><p>“I’m sorry. I should’ve known they were up to something.”</p><p>“Don’t apologize. We don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to. But er...they did promise dinner, and I’m quite hungry.”</p><p>Hermione smiled at him. “Well, we <em> are </em> here, after all, we may as well eat.” She shrugged out of her coat and hung it up on the rack by the door. When she turned back to face Ron, his eyes were slightly wide, and his cheeks were tinged pink. “Oh.” She smoothed the skirt of the dress self-consciously. “The girls insisted.”</p><p>“No, it’s—you look beautiful.” Ron’s blush deepened. “Sorry, am I allowed to say that?”</p><p>Hermione smiled shyly. “Always the tone of surprise,” she teased softly, as she had before.</p><p>Ron cleared his throat and returned her awkward smile before gesturing to the table. “Shall we?” Hermione nodded and took his extended arm to let him lead her across the room.</p><p>They were waited on as if the restaurant was open for its normal business, and they stuck to safe topics of conversation, which was mostly swapping stories about Rose and Holly that the other had missed out on. Just as the waiter brought out their salads, Hermione noticed the two identical faces peeking in through the window, though they quickly ducked out of sight when they realized Hermione had seen them. She rolled her eyes as she picked up her fork. “Now I know how a goldfish feels,” she scoffed.</p><p>“You know,” Ron said slowly. “I may never really be alone with you again. So...can I ask you something?”</p><p>Hermione took a sip of wine to hide her face, suddenly nervous. “You can ask.”</p><p>Ron shifted awkwardly in his seat but went on anyway. “About the day that you packed…” Hermione swallowed and forced herself to meet his gaze. “Why’d you do it?”</p><p>“Oh, Ron, I don’t know. We were so young, we said stupid things, and so...I packed. Accepted that job in New York, took the first portkey I could get, and…” It sounded stupid and immature to say now, but at the time, the next part had felt monumentally important. “And you didn’t come after me.”</p><p>Ron’s voice was barely a whisper as he replied, “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”</p><p>Hermione blinked hard against the tears she could feel forming. She couldn’t accept that the whole thing had been a misunderstanding, ten years they had wasted because they were both too proud to just <em> talk </em> to each other. Not that there was any guarantee they would still be together now, anyway. Not that Ron still had feelings for her, so many years later, even though <em> she </em> had barely been able to think about anything all night except returning the favor and pulling him to the dance floor, and kissing him the way neither of them had had the courage to do the night the Ministry had fallen. “Yes, well, it’s all in the past now, isn’t it?” Hermione said briskly, grateful for the timely arrival of their dinners. “Let’s just...put on a good face for the girls, and get this show on the road, hmm?”</p><p>They passed the rest of the meal quickly, and mostly in silence. Rose and Holly looked hopeful when Ron and Hermione walked into Wheezes to retrieve them, and Hermione could tell they were disappointed that their parents didn’t seem to have come to any sort of romantic reconciliation. Hermione had to admit, as she said her goodbyes to the girls, and received a tentative kiss on the cheek from Ron, that she was a bit disappointed, too.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi friends! Here we are at the last chapter! I'm so glad so many of you have enjoyed this little plot bunny as much as I have enjoyed writing it! Thanks for all the kind words along the way :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was Ron’s day to open the shop, so he was surprised when George walked into his office not long after he had arrived. “What’re you doing here?”</p><p>George held up the paper bag he was holding in reply. “I was sent on a mission for pumpkin pasties that <em> the baby </em> had to have for breakfast.” He shook his head and propped himself on the edge of Ron’s desk. “Just thought I’d pop in while I was in the Alley and see how your date went last night.”</p><p>Ron raised an eyebrow at him. “It <em> wasn’t—</em>“</p><p>“Spare me, I helped set the whole thing up. It was absolutely a date.” George grinned at him. “So?”</p><p>Ron sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Thanks for helping out the girls, but...nothing happened. Nothing’s <em> going </em> to happen. Hermione goes back to New York today and…” He trailed off with a shrug.</p><p>“And what? The two of you are still starry-eyed over each other. What’s the problem?”</p><p>“We hadn’t even spoken in ten years, until this week, George. It’s a miracle we got through it without killing each other. Anything more would’ve been…”</p><p>“Amazing? Perfect?” Ron glared at George, who showed no inclination to let him off the hook. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t still love her, and I’ll drop it.”</p><p>“I—“ Ron tried, but the lie wouldn’t come out. All he’d been able to think about since he had first seen her in the shop last week was how much he still loved her. How much he had <em> always </em> loved her. “She doesn’t still think of me that way.”</p><p>“Bullshit.”</p><p>“<em>George</em>.”</p><p>“Look, as your brother, I say this to you with all the love in the world. But you need to hear it from her. Because you don’t believe me, and if by some absolute bollocks I’m wrong, you need to hear that from her, too, so that you can move on with your life. When does she leave?”</p><p>Ron glanced at the clock on the wall. “Soon.”</p><p>“What’s soon? Enough time that you could still catch her at the Ministry?” Ron shrugged noncommittally, though the answer was yes. “Go on, then. The shop doesn’t even open for an hour.” Ron hesitated. What if George was wrong about Hermione’s feelings? Hell, what if he was <em> right</em>? “Go or you’re fired.”</p><p>Ron rolled his eyes. “You can’t fire me, I’m your partner.”</p><p>“And yet, it’s not <em> your </em> face over the front door.”</p><p>“It’s not yours, either. It’s Fred’s.”</p><p>“Fair point. Two against one, we both say go or you’re fired.” George summoned Ron’s coat from the hook on the back of the door and threw it at him. “You can thank us later.”</p><p>Ron stood reluctantly and pulled the coat on. “If you’re wrong…”</p><p>“I’m sure Hermione will be happy to offer you some creative ways to hex me when you get back. Now <em> go </em>.”</p><p>With a deep breath, Ron took a handful of Floo powder and disappeared with a <em> whoosh </em> of green flames.</p><p>***</p><p>Hermione sat anxiously at the Ministry awaiting her portkey back to New York, a copy of the <em> Daily Prophet </em> open in front of her but failing to hold her attention. She couldn’t stop thinking about the night before, and about Ron. She had had such a nice time with him at dinner, and even after all this time, he was so <em> familia</em>. It felt like it would have taken almost nothing to just give in and try things again. Of course, the familiarity wasn’t all positive; even as much as she loved him—oh, Merlin, had she really just thought that?—she knew that things would be difficult. They were both stubborn and hot-headed at times, and that had led to plenty of fights in the past, including the one that had ultimately meant the demise of their relationship. And it wasn’t as if a relationship with him would be <em> practical</em>; at this very moment, she was waiting for the portkey that would put three thousand miles between them again. No, it was better for her to put these thoughts aside and maintain a friendly but distant relationship with Ron, for the sake of their daughters and nothing else.</p><p>Hermione hoisted the paper up in front of her, forcing herself to focus on a preview of the upcoming Quidditch season, which she wouldn’t have bothered with at all except that Ginny had written it. She was halfway through when a freckled hand appeared over the top of the wide parchment and folded it down. “Hey, stranger.” Hermione looked up and met Ron’s bright blue eyes and tossed the paper aside immediately.</p><p>“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” she asked urgently, standing to face him.</p><p>“Everything’s fine. It just…” Ron paused and inhaled deeply. “Reckon it really hit me this morning that I didn’t want to lose you again.” Hermione drew in a sharp breath as Ron took a step closer to her. “I made the mistake of not coming after you once, Hermione. I’m not going to do it again.”</p><p>Hermione was stunned speechless for all of one moment before the words started tumbling out. “And I suppose you just expect me to go weak at the knees, and fall into your arms, and cry hysterically—“ Ron chuckled and raised an eyebrow at her as she gestured wildly with her arms. “Say we’ll figure this whole thing out, a bicontinental relationship with our daughters being raised here and there, and…” She looked up at him, and her voice softened as she continued. “And you and I just picking up where we left off, and...growing old together, and…” Hermione sniffled as Ron took one of her hands in his and laced their fingers together. “Oh, come on, Ron, what do you expect? To live happily ever after?”</p><p>“Yes,” he said sincerely, wrapping his other arm around her waist. “To all of the above.” He shrugged and grinned at her. “ ‘Cept, y’know, you don’t have to cry hysterically.”</p><p>That bit was ironically the most imminent as Ron slowly lowered his face to hers. “Oh, yes I do,” she murmured just before his lips met hers.</p><p>The Ministry faded into the background as Ron kissed her. Her hands slid up the lapels of his coat to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as she raised onto her toes. She kissed him with all the passion she had, for once not caring in the slightest to be doing this in public. They had wasted far too much time already.</p><p>“Merlin, I missed you,” Ron breathed when they finally pulled apart.</p><p>“I missed you too.” Hermione wiped at her eyes, then glanced behind her at the clock. As much as she wanted it to, Ron’s romantic declaration in the portkey terminal didn’t change the immediate practicality of the situation. She had a job in New York she had to be at in the morning.</p><p>“Hey.” She turned back to face him. “We’ll figure this whole thing out,” he said softly, echoing her words back to her. “A bicontinental relationship. Whatever we have to do. Because I want everything else you said. The growing old, and the happily ever after...I want <em> you</em>, Hermione.”</p><p>“I want that, too.” She leaned up and kissed him again to make sure he knew how much she meant it. “But I don’t want a bicontinental relationship.”</p><p>Ron looked nervous as he asked, “Then what?”</p><p>“I need to go back to New York, and sort things out. Find a job in London. Pack up the flat.” She sighed. “It may take some time. But I want to do this properly, with you. For us, and for the girls.”</p><p>As if to underline her words, the travel official’s magically magnified voice announced that all nine o’clock portkeys were preparing to depart. Ron pressed his forehead to hers. “Do whatever you need to do to make this work. Just come back to me.”</p><p>“I will.” She put her hand against his cheek. “Remember what you said the other day? About being scared of everything but me?” Ron nodded. “I feel the same way. I love you, Ron. I want to be with you. But I just—“</p><p>“Wouldn’t be Hermione Granger if you didn’t sort everything properly?” he smirked. “Yeah, I get it.” He nodded to the portkey. “You’re going to be late.”</p><p>“You’re okay with this?”</p><p>“You’re coming back?”</p><p>“Just try and stop me.” Ron grinned and pulled her face back to his for one last, searing kiss before she stepped away.</p><p>“Hermione?”</p><p>“Yes, Ron?”</p><p>“I love you, too.” She gave him one final wave as the portkey activated, and his smiling face was the last thing she saw of London. <em> For now </em> , she thought as her feet hit the ground in New York. <em> Just for now</em>...</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em> six months later… </em>
</p><p>“I can’t believe we’re already through our first year,” Rose said as she haphazardly stuffed her Quidditch robes into her trunk. She’d been wearing them practically nonstop since tryouts the week before had put her on the house team for next year, but as the train was only about five minutes from the Gare du Nord, she had finally been forced to ditch them in favor of muggle clothes.</p><p>“<em>I </em> can’t believe you passed your potions final without revising hardly at all,” Holly retorted, her nose still in her book.</p><p>“What can I say, it’s a gift.” Rose grinned and flopped back into her seat. “So, what do you reckon the big surprise is?”</p><p>Holly shrugged. “Don’t know. Mum hasn’t said anything to me.”</p><p>“Maybe Dad finally got a crup puppy. He’s always on about one, and Aunt Ginny reckons he needs a friend in that big house, with me gone at school.”</p><p>“Doubt it. He probably appreciates the peace and quiet he hasn’t had for the last eleven years of raising you.” Holly lowered her book and smirked at Rose, who glared back.</p><p>“Oh, yes, <em> très amusant</em>.” Rose rolled her eyes. “Suppose we’ll find out soon enough. They’re both meeting the train, right?”</p><p>Holly nodded. “That’s what Mum said.” The train began to slow, finally grinding to a halt with a final lurch. “Let’s go.”</p><p>The twins gathered all their things and said goodbye to their friends on the platform. Rose was skimming the crowd for their parents, and of course, spotted their dad first. He grinned at her and waved, and Rose tugged at Holly’s elbow to lead her in that direction. As they were walking though, the crowd parted enough to reveal their mum standing with him, and Rose pulled up short. Their parents were <em> holding hands</em>. After her brief hesitation, she broke into a run, Holly yelling behind her and now burdened with both of their trunks.</p><p>“How did—when were—“ Rose sputtered, and her parents shared an amused glance as Holly caught up.</p><p>“What is <em> wrong </em> with you?” she demanded, dropping both trunks with a thud.</p><p>“<em>Look</em>!” Rose exclaimed, pointing at Ron and Hermione’s still-joined hands.</p><p>“Wait, are you—did you—“ Holly shook her head as if to make all of her thoughts fall into place. “<em> What </em>?”</p><p>“Safe to say they’re surprised,” Ron said to Hermione with a grin before raising their hands to plant a kiss on the back of hers.</p><p>“<em>This </em> was the surprise?” Holly asked incredulously. “Are you really…really back together, then?”</p><p>Hermione gazed up at Ron with the dopiest smile Holly had ever seen from her mum. “Very much so,” she replied.</p><p>Rose was hopping eagerly from one foot to the other. “When did this happen?”</p><p>“Right after Christmas,” Ron answered, also looking quite like someone had taken a beater’s bat to his head.</p><p>“Right after—“ Holly began as Rose cried, “<em>Christmas </em>?! But...you didn’t tell us!”</p><p>“Well…” Ron began as he dropped Hermione’s hand to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “We thought after the first term shenanigan that you two pulled on us, that we owed you one.”</p><p>Hermione nodded her agreement. “What do you say, girls? Call it even?”</p><p>Holly put her hands playfully on her hips and shook her head. “No way. You’ve now signed up for a lifetime of shenanigans.”</p><p>Hermione laughed and pulled Holly in for a hug as Ron did the same to Rose, but the two of them had eyes for only each other as Hermione replied, “That sounds perfect.”</p><p> </p>
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